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’rimrose Series, 


Issued monthly. By subscription, $6 per year. No. 34. April, 1892. 
Entered at New York Post-Office as second-class matter. 


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CAPTAIN TOM. 


By ST. CEORCE RATHBORNE. 



BERTHA 1. CLAY’S COPYRIGHT NOVELS. 


PUBLISHED BY STREET & SMITH. 


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UNDER A SHADOW. 

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BETWEEN TWO LOVES. 25 cents. 


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BEYOND PARDON. 25 cents. 


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THROWN ON THE WORLD. 25 cents. 

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For Sale Everywhere 


CAPTAIN TOM 


A NOVEL. 


BY 

/ 

ST. GEORGE RATHBORNE, 

AUTHOR OF 

“ DOCTOR JACK,” “ DOCTOR JACK’S WIFE, ’ ETC. 



NEW YORK: 

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Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1893, 

By Street & Smith, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 


CONTENTS 






CHAPTER. PAGE. 

I. — How the Shells Fell in the Quartier Latin 5 

II. — “Give Her Up, or You Shall Share Her Fate !” 14 

III. —A Mystery of the Convent 26 

IV. — “ Wine is a Mocker ! Take Care, Captain Tom !” 31 

V.— The Snake That Lay in the Amber Glass 39 

VI. —Mickey McCray 48 

VII. — The Conspiracy of the Catacombs 67 

VIII.— Captain Tom on Deck 68 

IX. — A Little Affair Under the Walls of Paris 74 

X. — The Prisoner of La lloquette 83 

XI.— Playing With Fire 92 

XII. — Monsieur Mickey “Strikes lie” 102 

XIII. -The Cafe Madrid 107 

XIV. — “ Mock Me Not, Monsieur Tom ; I am Blind !” 118 

XV. — The Men Behind the Curtains 126 

XVI. -“The Chance Has Come !” 135 

XVII. — The Voyagers of the Clouds 144 

XVIII.— A Tap on the Shoulder 153 

XIX.— Beyond the Rhine 161 

XX.— Poor Franz! 170 

XXI. — “Even the Walls Have Ears in Berlin !” 177 

XXII. — The Fencing Den in the Grun Strasse 187 

XXIII. -Unter Den Linden 196 

XXIV.— Bismarck’s Watch-Dog 205 

XXV.— Carl’s Story 214 

XXVI. -Mickey Shows Up at Last 222 

XXVII. -A Mug of Mulled Porter 232 

XXVIII. — “ This Night Germany is Free !” 241 

XXIX.— Captain Tom Unmasked 249 

XXX. — “ All is Now Staked on a Woman’s Whim !” 257 

XXXI.— Sixty-two Minutes Left 266 

XXXII.— Out of the Trap 273 


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THE PRIMROSE SERIES. 


These novels have been selected with great care from 
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The most interesting stories in this series are the fol- 
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Another Man’s Wife. By Bertha M. Clay. 

The Belle of the Season. By Mrs. Harriet Lewis. 
Doctor Jack. By St. George Rathborne. 

Kathleen Douglas. By Julia Truitt Bishop. 

Jose. By Otto Ruppius. 

His Word of Honor. By E. Werner. 

A Parisian Romance. By Octave Feuillet. 

A Woman’s Temptation. By Bertha M. Clay. 

Stella Rosevelt. By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon. 

The Partners. By Alphonse Daudet. 

Sardou’s Cleopatra. By Victorien Sardou. 

The Chouans. By Honore de Balzac. 

Sealed Lips. By Leon de Tinseau. 

Coralie’s Son. By Albert Delpit. 

Martha, the Parson’s Daughter. By W. Heimburg. 
Jack. By Alphonse Daudet. 

The Master of Ettersberg. By E. Werner. 

Germinie Lacerteux. By E. and J. de Goncourt. 

Under a Shadow. By Bertha M. Clay. 

The Price he Paid. By E. Werner. 

The Earl’s Atonement. By Bertha M. Clay. 

Sister Pliilomene. By E. and J. de Goncourt. 

For sale by all Booksellers and Newsdealers; or sent, 
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CAPTAIN TOM 


CHAPTER I. 

HOW THE SHELLS FELL IN THE QUARTIER LATIN. 

At exactly one o’clock on the morning of the 
ninth of January, 1871, a great shell hurled from 
the Prussian stronghold at Chatillon drops upon the 
roof of a house in the Quartier Latin in doomed 
Paris. A mournful, rushing sound is instantly 
followed by a ripping and tearing, in turn succeeded 
by a muffled explosion, then comes a dreadful 
silence. 

In a corner of the upper room a man fully dressed 
has been sleeping on a cot. The tremendous shock 
arouses him ; he flings back the covers and sits up, 
looking around with a coolness that is amazing. 

Darkness everywhere save above, where a ragged 
hole in the roof marks the route taken by the iron 
intruder. The man gives a whistle to indicate his 
surprise. 

“A close shave, by Jove! That was meant for 
me. Confound those Prussian gunners, to break 
my rest in this way. Ugh ! that is a cold wind 


6 HOW THE SHELLS FELL IN THE QU ARTIER LATIN. 

coming in through the new entrance. It is impos- 
sible to sleep longer. Perhaps I may find some- 
thing to interest me outside.” 

Listening, strange sounds come to his ears. The 
French forts answer the Prussian guns. Mont 
Valerien is aflame, and the thunder of artillery 
makes the very earth tremble. Besides there is 
heard the weird shriek of passing shells, their awful 
bursting, with perhaps the falling of innumerable 
bricks or stones. 

Astonishing as it may seem, this man takes a 
match and lights a candle with a hand that never 
so much as trembles. Surely he must be made of 
ice, or have nerves of steel, to show so little emo- 
tion during such a tumult. 

Shielding the flame as much as possible from the 
current of air that rushes in through the rent in 
the roof, he surveys the desolate scene. The rafters 
hang downward, plaster lies broadcast over the 
floor, which in turn is torn and wrecked where the 
iron sphere passed downward. 

A fine dust fills the air ; the house would perhaps 
fall only for the support given on either side. As 
it is, the building is ruined. 

While the cool inmate of the upper floor thus sur- 
veys the wreck of his quarters, the light falls upon 
his own face and figure. It reveals a tall, well- 
knit form, and an American countenance, more re- 
markable on account of its firmness than because 
of any claims to manly beauty, although Captain 
Tom Pilgrim has never been accounted a homely 
man. 

Satisfied that his den is no longer habitable after 
this remorseless visitor from the Prussian guns at 
Chatillon has plowed a passage through it, the 


HOW THE SHELLS FELL IN THE QU ARTIEli LATIN. 7 

American dons an outer coat, together with a soft 
hat, and picking up a few little articles, such as a 
revolver, etc., walks toward the staircase. 

He remembers for the first time that there are 
others below, and wonders whether the iron mon- 
ster has done more than bring damage upon the 
property. 

On the stairs he meets Monsieur Blanc, his host, a 
small but voluble Frenchman, who denounces the 
Prussians for ruining him, and expresses grati- 
tude that “ monsieur le capitaine” is safe, all in one 
breath. 

Everywhere is seen wreck and ruin, for the shell 
seems to have dropped as perpendicularly as 
though coming from the clouds. 

Even the door is out of plumb, and only by a 
muscular effort does the American tear it open. 

He passes out upon the streets. The Quartier 
Latin is receiving an undue proportion of the 
enemy’s projectiles, and on this night in particular 
the citizens are fully aroused to a realization of 
their perilous situation. 

Until recently the Parisians have laughed at the 
s ieg e _they saw so little of its horrors, as the battles 
have been fought at a distance— and the official re- 
ports published each day predicted a Prussian re- 
treat immediately. 

Now the bombardment was begun, and houses, 
bridges, and churches lie in ruins. Starvation is 
not the only fate that threatens. There is a terrible 
death fluttering in the air, accompanying each 
hurtling bomb. The humor of the populace has 
changed, and actual fear is seen upon many a face. 

The streets are not crowded, but here and there 
stand squads of men and women, discussing the 


8 HOW THE SHELLS FELL IN THE QUA R TIER LATIN. 

last terrible phase of the siege, hurrying this way 
and that to note the devastation caused by some 
bursting shell— perhaps to collect relics at the same 
time, for their fear has not entirely overcome their 
cupidity. 

Lights are seen ; for the great city is not yet re- 
duced to darkness. Fires burn in three distinct 
quarters, but whether caused by bursting bombs 
or through the carelessness of pillaging vandals, 
it is impossible to tell. 

Captain Tom saunters along, taking in the strange 
sights to be met with on this night of the hottest 
bombardment yet experienced, and keeping a 
watchful eye for friends, of whom he has a num- 
ber in the beleaguered city. 

Several cabs rattle along the paved streets. Each 
bears the significant red cross, and, no doubt, 
contains a wounded man from the front — an officer 
of rank, perhaps — whose position entitles him to a 
bed in the Necker Hospital on the Rue de Sevres, 
though from the reckless manner in which the shells 
descend it would probably be safer to have kept 
the wounded leaders in the forts outside the city. 

Here and there are nuns hastening to give their 
assistance to the wounded, each under the protec- 
tion of the red cross. 

The scene is full of excitement. Here is a house 
in ruins, just beyond a shell tears a gaping hole in 
the street, sending the debris all around in con- 
fusion, and killing several citizens who chance to 
be near. Through a side street that debouches 
upon a boulevard a company of mobiles march 
amid the cheers of the Parisian crowd, which is 
nothing if not demonstrative. 

The glare of a bonfire lights up the scene, and 


HOW THE SHELLS FELL IN THE QU ARTIER LATIN. 9 

glints upon the polished chassepots carried upon 
the shoulders of the soldiers from the provinces. 
All around are evidences that the war has come 
home to gay, thoughtless Paris, and yet her citi- 
zens, half starved as they are, never dream but that 
it is a hideous nightmare, and some fine morning 
the enemy will awaken to find himself in a trap — 
when the army of rescue that is always coming, but 
never arrives, reaches the scene. 

Thus sauntering along, the American finds that 
he has reached the Boulevard des Capucines. Near- 
by towers the hotel generally sought, after the 
Louvre, by foreigners, and known as the Hotel de 
la Paix. 

Even in this quarter Paris is alarmed. The Prus- 
sian guns seem capable of reaching every point in 
the city, and at any hour the deluge of iron may 
be hurled upon this section. Indeed, one shell has 
already shattered a house not a stone’s throw from 
the caravansary. 

Captain Tom has had an object in heading for the 
boulevard. He looks into each face he meets, as 
though under the belief that here he will find the 
one he seeks. Sometimes it is a well-dressed citi- 
zen, again a man of the bourgeoisie stamp, wearing 
a blouse and Tyrolese hat, or perhaps a military in- 
dividual, strutting along with the importance that 
only a French petty officer can assume. 

While thus engaged he reaches the hotel, and a 
hand presses his arm, while a voice says : 

“ V^jhat does this mean, Captain Tom. You de- 
clared you were bound to sleep the night through 
in spite of the bloody racket, and yet here I find 
you on the boulevard.” 

The speaker is, like himself, a foreigner, but his 


10 HOW THE SHELLS FELL IN THE QUARTIER LATIN. 

voice and language bespeak the Briton. Others 
besides the daring American have allowed them- 
selves to be shut up in Paris, from motives of curi- 
osity, love of adventure, or something else that may 
be developed later on. 

Captain Tom laughs. It is a cheery sound, and 
has won him many a friend in times past. 

“ I give you my word, Lord Eric, I slept as sound 
as a dollar so long as the affair was confined to 
screeching and smashing all about in the Latin 
Quartier, but when a beastly shell dropped into my 
room, and left me exposed to the weather, I drew 
the line at that, and concluded that there might 
be some queer things to be seen on the streets. 
Something — I can’t explain what — drew me to your 
hotel. Perhaps it was because I saw our friend, 
Colonel Julas, being carried in an ambulance to the 
hospital, or it may have been just a notion on my 
part. *’ 

“Pardon me, my friend, it was more. Yes, even 
the hand of fate.” 

“I am far from being a fatalist, Lord Eric,” re- 
turns the American, at the same time giving his 
companion a queer glance, for he hardly knew 
how to take him at times; milord is a peculiar 
combination — a puzzle to those who know him. 

“ Listen ! At this very moment I have issued from 
the hotel here with my mind set upon seeing you. 
Behold! the first person against whom I run is 
Captain Tom. What do you call that but fate?” 

“ It is a queer coincidence, certainly— I admit that ; 
but what has occurred to make an interview with 
me so essential ! Has anything happened since I 
parted with you at nine at the Champs Ely sees?” 

The Englishman twists his neck around as if to 


HOW THE SHELLS FELL IN THE QU ARTIER LATIN. 11 

make sure that there is no one near to spy upon 
their movements. Then he takes hold of his com- 
panion’s sleeve and draws him into a niche formed 
by the hotel wall. 

It not only screens them from the observation 
of passers-by, but serves to keep off the chilly Janu- 
ary night wind that sweeps down the elegant 
boulevard. 

There is something mysterious in the very actions 
of the Briton, and the adventurous Captain Tom 
anticipates a revelation that will arouse his slug- 
gish blood. This man has seen so much of life in 
his time that ordinary events do not move him. 

Having fully satisfied himself with regard to their 
security, milord speaks, and even his voice seems to 
be full of deep mystery, so low and strained is its 
tone. 

“What I have to tell you concerns a certain lady 
friend of yours. Perhaps you can give a guess as 
to her name.” 

“Let me see. Is it the fair Alsatian, Linda?” 

“ Hit it the first shot ! Shows where your heart 
must be, captain. I have not come any too soon to 
warn you.” 

“ Bah ! I have passed unscathed the battery of 
brighter eyes than hers. Linda is beautiful. It 
amuses me to play the gallant once in a while, 
though I am more at home in the woods, or on the 
deck of my dainty little yacht than in the presence 
of ladies ; but as to warning me of the danger, my 
good friend ” 

“Wait! You do not understand me, captain. It 
is not danger from her eyes, of which I warn you. 
The peril comes from another quarter, but in con- 
nection with the fair Alsatian.” 


12 HOW THE SHELLS FELL IN THE QU ARTIER LATIN. 

Captain Tom puffs at his cigar while his com- 
panion thus speaks. He seems to be pondering the 
words. 

“Ah! you have reference to a jealous rival. I 
shall have to meet him some morning at sunrise in 
the Forest de St. Germaine, or perhaps the Bois de 
Boulogne, with swords or pistols. I suppose I can 
depend on you, my friend, to second me, for I shall 
fight, if challenged, just for the adventure.” 

“ Blast the luck, Captain Tom ; you run on like a 
Derby winner. Hark, man! This danger does not 
come from within, but from without. It is the mil- 
itary authorities you have to fear.” 

The words, though thrilling in their nature, do 
not seem to arouse any alarm in the breast of the 
American, who merely shrugs his shoulders in the 
French style he has learned so well, and remarks : 

“Is that all? Please explain, milord.” 

“ It is known that you have been intimate with this 
beautiful lady for some time. You have sent her 
flowers, driven her in a carriage, and even forced 
her to accept presents of food that are worth their 
weight in silver during the siege.” 

“In brief, I have treated her as a lady friend, for 
whom I have a warm admiration. I am rich. 
Whose business is it if I choose to send flowers to 
one of the fair sex?” 

Captain Tom is indignant. He feels that some 
one has been meddling in his private affairs, and 
this is an interference he never will brook without 
being heard from. 

Before speaking further the Englishman pokes his 
head out from the niche, and takes a survey of 
their surroundings. A fiacre dashes past as though 
containing a messenger who bears important tid- 


HOW THE SHELLS FELL IN THE QUART I ER LATIN. 13 

ings. Down the boulevard a crowd of citizens ad- 
vance, singing the “ Marseillaise,” and shouting 
that the Republic has come, “Vive la Republique!” 

In another quarter a detachment of gendarmes, 
under a commissaire of police, sweep the boulevard 
of all gathering crowds. Already the authorities 
of Paris feel the mutterings of the coming storm. 
The enemy within will play greater havoc than the 
Prussians ever can. The dreaded hydra-headed 
Commune is nearly in the saddle, after a retirement 
of over twenty years. Paris will soon be under the 
heel of the oppressor. 

In their immediate vicinity all is quiet, and Lord 
Eric sees no cause for apprehension. What he has 
to say can be told without danger of being over- 
heard, at least so far as he can discern. 

The American has had his natural curiosity 
aroused by this time, and the strange actions of 
his friend are calculated to augment such feelings 
on his part. 

Still he asks no more questions, satisfied that 
Lord Eric will tell all when he has gone through 
his little stage business. Perhaps the American 
has seen him carry on in this way before, and 
make much out of a mole-hill. 

“ I need not tell you how I have obtained my in- 
formation, my friend. It is a beastly shame, you 
know, but, all the same, I have no doubt regarding 
its accuracy. When I tell you that the secret po- 
lice have received positive instructions from mili- 
tary headquarters to watch your every movement, 
you can understand why I am so particular about 
being seen in your company, and at this hour.” 

“ Confusion ! Lord Eric, you harp on in the one 
strain. Tell me why I am under suspicion.” 


14 “GIVE HER UP, OH YOU SHALL SHARE HER FATE.” 

“ Because you admire the fair Alsatian. You 
send her costly presents, ride with her; in a word, 
because you are her friend.” 

“Answer me plainly, man. What do they say 
she is?” and his hand grips the Briton’s arm until he 
winces under the pressure. 

“Listen, then, my friend. They have learned 
that the lovely Alsation is a German spy!” 


CHAPTER II. 

“GIVE HER UP, OR YOU SHALL SHARE HER FATE.” 

The words “ German spy” are almost hissed in the 
ear of the American, who has maintained his clutch 
upon Lord Eric’s arm. 

“The duse you say!” he answers, and it is evident 
that milord’s announcement has not awakened as 
much wonder as the other had expected. 

“Whether you are guilty or innocent will not 
matter much, once you fall into the hands of the 
authorities, Captain Tom. It is a march to the 
Prison La Roquette, and the guillotine by morning, 
or perhaps a file of zouaves, a box for a coffin, a 
brief order, and you are no more. These are stir- 
ring times in Paris. See these citizens approaching. 
If I were to step out and denounce you as a Prus- 
sian spy, do you think they would ask for my proofs 
or wait to hear your defense. The chances are 
your head would adorn the end of a pike carried by 
some rough from Belleville inside of thirty minutes.” 

“Perhaps,” returns the other, quietly, “unless I 
put the whole of them to flight.” 

The Englishman surveys his companion in the 


“GIVE HER UP , OR YOU SHALL SHARE HER FATE." 15 

dim light of the distant bonfire, as though aston- 
ished at his nonchalance. 

“ Bless my soul, Pilgrim, I believe you would be 
equal to it. I haven’t forgotten your adventure in 
the catacombs with the gang of robbers. But 
make your mind easy. Eric Bullard is the last man 
in Paris to betray you, even if you are guilty. I’d 
sooner cut my hand off than prove false to a friend.” 

“ A thousand thanks, milord ; those words do you 
honor. I need not question your motives in seek- 
ing me.” 

“ They were to warn you, so that you might visit 
the fair Linda no more, since death lies in the cup, 
pleasant though it may seem.” 

“ From my heart I thank you. One favor I have 
to beg, rude though it may seem.” 

“Name it. If in my power ” 

“ There is no question about that. Since I am un- 
der suspicion I beg that you will no longer appear to 
be my friend.” 

“You fear that I may be dragged in also?” 

“No good can come of it. If we both live through 
the siege we may renew our friendship.” 

It is a singular request, but milord understands 
that something underlies it. 

“As you say, my friend. It would be better if 
you accompanied me to the Minister of the Interior, 
explained your position, and gave your solemn word 
of honor that you would never again see the lovely 
Alsatian.” 

Captain Tom shakes his head. 

“That were impossible, milord.” 

“Why so?” impatiently. 

“Because I go from this spot to see the woman 
the authorities have declared to be a German spy.” 


16 “GIVE HER UP, OR YOU SHALL SHARE HER FATE." 

The Englishman seems shocked. 

“It is a shame for such a bright, jolly fellow to 
invite annihilation, for that is the inevitable result 
when a man runs against the machinery of the 
Paris police. I am bound to believe that you are 
either a reckless dare-devil, ready to risk your life 
for a sou, or else what they suspect is true.” 

“And that I am a German spy !” laughs the Amer- 
ican, carelessly. 

“Hush I for Heaven’s sake, man! If the ears of 
that rabble caught your words nothing could save 
us from their fury.” 

“Bah! they are a lot of jackals! A few well- 
directed shots among them would scatter the pack 
and send them howling down the boulevard. How- 
ever, I have no desire to invite such attention. 
While I thank you again for your friendly warn- 
ing, milord, do not believe that I am insensible to 
the fact that for three days and nights I have been 
shadowed; at the Mabille, such as it is in these 
desolate times; dining at the Cafe de Madrid, 
where conspirators are wont to meet ; even when 
accompanying the remains of my friend Duval, who 
fell in the last useless sortie, to Pere la Chaise, the 
noble cemetery, risking the fire from the Prussian 
guns— I have been aware of the fact that some one 
was watching me.” 

“Yet you will defy fate by visiting again at the 
house of that enchantress. Well, man is a strange 
creature,” remarks the other, in a philosophical 
way, that draws out another of those cheery laughs 
from Captain Tom. 

“ Perhaps at some future time, when you know 
all, you will understand what now seems a dark 
mystery,” he says, soberly. 


“GIVE HER UP, OR YOU SHALL SHARE HER FATE” 17 

“Then you confess there is a mystery? Why not 
take me into your confidence? Make me a sharer 
in your secrets.” 

“That is generous of you, milord, but I must 
firmly decline your offer. We part here. I know 
not whether the fortunes of war will ever bring 
us together as friends again. Remember your 
promise to cut my acquaintance until such time as 
this affair is all over.” 

“Do you mean to hold me to that?” 

“Most religiously, milord. If we meet again I 
shall scowl at you like an Italian bandit, and expect 
you to do the same.” 

“Perhaps so,” mutters the puzzled Englishman, as 
he returns the warm hand clasp. 

Standing in the niche he watches the stalwart 
form of the American moving down the boulevard, 
and shakes his head sadly. 

“Blast the luck! I like that chap. He is a man 
any one might go wild over; strong as a horse, 
bold as a lion, and yet no woman could have been 
more gentle than Tom Pilgrim when he handled 
my wounds after that boar hunt in the Black Forest. 
Yes, confound it, I love him because he is a man 
after my own heart ; but I’m afraid he’s been foolish 
enough to mix up in some business here that may 
cost him his life. It is not love that takes him to 
the side of that fair Alsatian, but what then? I 
can’t even guess, unless Great Heaven ! I won- 

der if he is in the employ of the French general? 
Nonsense. The idea is too absurd. I’ll go inside and 
get a little sleep, though the poor devils in the re- 
gion of the Latin Quartier will have small peace 
with that infernal din about their ears.” Saying 
which the philosophical Briton once more re-enters 


18 “GIVE HER VP, OR YOU SHALL SHARE HER FATE” 

the great caravansary and seeks his desolate room. 
Provisions have long since grown so scarce that the 
hotels could not supply their guests, who may still 
lodge in them, but must seek their food elsewhere. 

Captain Tom saunters along with the same care- 
less step. He again approaches the region where the 
German shells are falling at the rate of one a min- 
ute. In spite of the danger, crowds are in the streets, 
and each explosion is the signal for a great rush to- 
ward the scene. 

Various sights greet his eyes, and he finds much 
to engage his attention. All the while he is ad- 
vancing with a certain object in view. 

He meets groups of soldiers hurrying in the direc- 
tion of the forts — mobiles, zouaves, or it may be a 
squad of mounted chasseurs. There has been secret 
word brought in of a contemplated Prussian ad- 
vance from the north, while the Krupp guns on the 
heights of Chatillon keep up the bombardment, and 
Governor Trochu seeks to strengthen the defenses 
there. 

Excitement grows as the night becomes older. 

Down the street comes a howling mob of men — 
yes, and women, such Amazons as the Revolution 
made notorious. 

What is the cause of the tremendous racket? 

A single, exhausted figure flies before them. 

Hear what they shout — “ Death to the spy ! To 
the lamp-post with the Prussian!” 

Now they overtake the wretch. He is a coward, 
and shows no fight. Innocent or guilty, it matters 
not ; the name is as good as the game to these des- 
perate communists, and in a twinkling the poor 
devil is swinging from the nearest lamp-post. 

Captain Tom sees and shrugs his shoulders, for he 


“GIVE HER UP , OR YOU SHALL SHARE HER FATE." 19 ’ 

remembers what his friend Lord Eric has warned 
him of. Such a fate as this would be his should the 
mob find out that he has been signaling to the Ger- 
mans in any way — by the use of colored lights, for 
instance. 

He does not avoid the terrible figure, but walks 
straight forward. No one knows the nature of a 
Parisian crowd better than this man, who has made 
a study of them. Some of the leaders glance at 
him, but he bears his American citizenship in his 
face, and they do not question him. Americans are, 
as a general thing, the friends of France in this 
unhappy war. 

A new clamor breaks out, and Captain Tom turns 
his head to discover the cause. He is electrified to 
see a number of the mob, mostly the Amazons, 
chasing a female. 

Where she has come from, what she has done, he 
cannot say. All that he knows is the fact that the 
poor creature flies toward him. She does not shriek 
or fill the air with her cries, but looks like a flut- 
tering bird endeavoring to escape its tormentors. 

The American feels all his manhood aroused by 
the sight. Whenever he has been appealed to for 
help, especially by a woman in distress, he has gen- 
erously thrown himself into the breach. 

Straight up to him the girlish figure flies, as 
though she has an intuition that here she may find 
a rock of refuge. 

Captain Tom feels a wave of indignation sweep 
over him when he takes note cf the delicate figure 
that crouches at his feet. 

“Oh, sir, you are a gentleman! Save me from 
these terrible creatures!” 

She speaks in French, but Tom is almost as famil- 


20 “GIVE HER UP, OR YOU SHALL SHARE HER FATE." 

iar with the language of diplomatic correspond- 
ence as with his mother tongue. He sees the be- 
seeching attitude, and imagines a sister of his own 
in such a position. 

In an instant his decision is taken. He will save 
this poor girl from her enemies, no matter what the 
personal risk. At times like this a really brave man 
never stops to consider the danger. He does not 
say “how many,” but “where are they?” 

With an involuntary movement he steps in front 
of the poor girl and faces her foes, who by this 
time have almost overtaken her. 

At the sight of a man before them instead of a 
weak, terror-stricken girl, the mob abruptly pauses 
and glowers upon him. The constituent members 
of this mob are like a lot of wolves, hungry and 
desperate. Already the horrors of the siege have 
been felt among the lower classes. The rich were 
wise enough to lay in a supply of food in time, but 
the poor have to take the pitiful allowance doled 
out by the authorities, and upon the faces of many 
a haggard look has come— the imprint of famine’s 
gaunt hand. 

To face such a crowd of half-crazed, vengeance- 
seeking people is something few men would care 
about doing. 

Captain Tom might be averse to it under ordin- 
ary circumstances, but men are often brought into 
action through certain means over which they have 
no control. 

His manner is that of a gladiator. With the girl 
behind him he stands there and waves back the 
dozen “ citizens” who have pursued. 

“Stop!” he cries, in French. “What has the girl 
done? Why do you chase her?” 


“GIVE HER UP , OR YOU SHALL SHARE HER FATE” 21 

A Babel of voices answer him. Each Amazon 
shrieks out some accusation, and the hoarser voices 
of the men join in. 

“ She is a witch ! We would burn her !” 

“She is a Prussian spy! The governor would 
shoot her on the Trocadero.” 

“We must have her. Give her up, or you shall 
share her fate!” 

The clamor grows in volume. It is perfectly 
terrible now, the shrill voices of the Amazons cut- 
ting the air like knives. 

Captain Tom is unmoved. He stands there like a 
rock, with the object of their wrath between the 
wall of the house and himself. 

His hand is no longer raised to warn them back, 
but it now grasps a revolver, while the light of bat- 
tle shines in his gray eyes. The American is on his 
mettle. He has been appealed to by one in dis- 
tress, and stands here as the champion of help- 
lessness. 

Let the waves of Parisian communism beat 
against him. They will be dashed back as from 
a rocky barrier. 

Perhaps the sight of the revolver has something 
to do with the mob halting. At any rate the Ama- 
zons and their backers come to a stop, forming a 
ragged line before him, which a neighboring bon- 
fire lights up in a fantastic manner. 

The picture is one an artist might seize upon to 
make his name famous. The crouching figure of 
the poor girl, her indomitable defender, the dozen 
awful creatures from the slums of Paris, rendered 
doubly desperate by the want of nourishing food, 
upon them all the flickering firelight playing iu 


22 “ GIVE HER UP, OR YOU SHALL SHARE HER FATE . ” 

fantastic humor. Captain Tom himself could never 
get the picture out of his mind. 

It looks just now as though they are bound to 
come to blows, that another little engagement will 
be fought upon the streets of Paris, such as becomes 
more frequent with each passing day of the siege, 
for the iron of the Prussian host is pressing closer 
and closer upon the throats of the beleaguered citi- 
zens as each sun sets behind the wintry hills. 

The American does not await the storm. He 
seeks to bring matters to a climax. 

The sooner these things are over the better. Cap- 
tain Tom believes in prompt action, for on more 
than one occasion he has seen the side that takes 
an aggressive part, though inferior in numbers, 
come out with victory perched upon its banner. 

“Listen, fellow citizens of Paris. The enemy is 
thundering at our gates, and every man is needed 
to save the city. This is no time to make war on 
the helpless, or to cut one another’s throats. You 
accuse this girl of being a Prussian spy. Prove it, 
and I will no longer defend her, but until you do, 
I stand before her, and death to the one who dares 
molest her!” 

Mutterings arise. 

These hardened creatures admire courage, but at 
the same time they are averse to giving up their 
prey. 

Having had a taste of blood, their appetites are 
whetted, and it really matters little to them where 
their next victim comes from. 

No country in the world has been so covered with 
the blood of its people as poor France. When 
scourged by the Revolution her rivers ran red with 
the slaughter of her citizens. In the city of Nantes 


“GIVE HER UP, OR YOU SHALL SHARE HER FATE 23 

alone thirty thousand were put to death with every 
conceivable torture. 

A mob in Paris is about as ugly a crowd to man- 
age as the world can produce. Captain Tom, who 
has ‘been all over the globe, feels he would rather 
face as many bigoted Hindoos on their native sod 
as these inflammatory elements from the lower dens 
of the city. 

There are as yet no signs of giving way. 
Instead the scowls grow blacker, and gleam- 
ing knives are seen in the begrimed hands of the 
human panthers who form the half-circle around 
the spot where the American stands at bay . 

He shoots one glance up and down the street. It is 
a narrow thoroughfare which he has taken in order 
to make a short cut to his destination. Above 
tower the houses, and from numerous windows 
heads are thrust, some of them adorned with the 
red cap indicating the Commune. 

What Captain Tom seeks is the presence of troops. 
If a squad of the National Guard, armed with their 
Snider rifles, would only appear, he feels that all 
would be well. Up to this time there had been 
troops in every quarter. They had even become 
monotonous in his eyes. Ndw, when he would 
give a great deal to see the red trousers of the 
zouaves, not a soldier is in sight. One could easily 
be led to believe that the city is destitute of them, 
and ready to be given over to the mercy of the mob. 

Plainly, then, if Captain Tom is to save the girl 
who has appealed to him for her life it must be 
done by the power of his arm alone, since no out- 
side assistance is near. 

After his little speech the line presses even closer. 

His eye in ranging along the crowd marks the 


24 “GIVE HER UP, OR YOU SHALL SHARE HER FATE” 

man who seems to be the evil spirit, urging the 
Amazons on to an awful crime. 

This personage is a sinister-looking man, with 
a brown face and snapping eyes. He has a way of 
inciting the hags onward, though it takes little to 
do that. 

When the American demands the proof, numer- 
ous eyes are turned upon this man, and the hands 
of the nearest push him forward. 

“ This is her accuser. Francois, speak ! Tell the 
American what you know!” they cry, all the while 
glaring at Tom’s charge as though ready to tear 
her to pieces. 

The man seems very unwilling to be thus brought 
to the front rank. Still it is only a poor, weak 
girl whom he has to face, and he puts on a bold 
front characteristic of the swaggering gamester 
of the boulevards. 

“Monsieur le American, your motives are honor- 
able. We admire bravery, but it can avail yonder 
wretched creature nothing. She has refused the 
only chance of life, and she must die!” 

The poor girl makes a move as if to face her ac- 
cuser, but Tom places a hand on her head as if to 
reassure her. 

“Monsieur, your charges! your proof?” he asks, in 
a steady tone that sounds like the ring of steel 
smiting steel. 

“You shall have it, monsieur. Then we will exe- 
cute the judgment of Paris upon the traitress. 
Look ! here is a letter written in German. It is ad- 
dressed to ‘ My Friend,’ and in it the writer sends 
thanks for the information received. Listen, citi- 
zens, while I read two lines. ‘ The King Wilhelm 


“GIVE HER UP, OR YOU SHALL SHARE HER FATE." 25 

will reward you. All Prussia rejoices in so true a 
friend. Let us hear again from you.”’ 

A roar greets the reading of this effusion, and it 
looks as though the tigers can no longer be re- 
strained from their prey, but Captain Tom waves 
them back with his revolver. 

“ Wait!” he thunders. 

It is a voice to command, and these jackals cringe 
before him, just as Tom said they would when 
talking to Lord Eric. 

Francois has become emboldened. He feels that 
victory is within his grasp, and waving the fatal 
document above his head he looks like a disciple of 
Satan urging his hosts onward. 

“Let me see the document, Francois.” 

The man holds back, dismayed, but those nearest 
urge him to comply. 

“Yes, let the American read her death warrant! 
Then he will defend her no longer,” they cry. 

Captain Tom’s hand grasps the paper. The fire 
burns fiercely enough for him to see the odd Ger- 
man characters upon the page. 

“ It is true. This letter has been sent to a Prus- 
sian spy in Paris. Do you swear you saw this girl 
reading it, Francois?” 

The man sees no trap, for excitement has a hold 
upon him. Eagerly he cries: 

“I swear it, monsieur — on my life!” 

Captain Tom’s face is grave. He realizes that 
the situation has become such that he may be 
drawn into the toils, accused of befriending a Ger. 
man spy, but not once does he shrink from what he 
believes to be his duty. 

“What say you to this accusation, mademoiselle? 
This man swears he found you reading this traitor- 


26 A MYSTEllY OF THE CONVENT. 

ous letter sent from the Prussians ! Are you guilty 
or innocent?” 

The crouching figure springs erect now. The 
clustering curls are swept back by a quick move- 
ment of the head. Captain Tom will never in his 
life forget what follows. 

“Monsieur, fellow citizens, hear me! That base 
man has sought to make me his wife ! Because I 
loathe him I have refused. He then persecutes a 
friendless girl, and now brings this accusation 
against me. In his haste to condemn he has for- 
gotten. He swears I was reading that paper. 
That is false. Look at me. I am blind.” 


CHAPTER III. 

A MYSTERY OF THE CONVENT. 

A convulsive shudder passes through the frame 
of Captain Tom when he finds a pair of apparently 
sightless eyes fastened upon him. They seem to 
appeal to his heart for help. 

A groan goes up from the crowd, and angry 
glances fall on Francois. The caprice of a mob is 
as changeable as April weather. It takes but a lit- 
tle thing to veer it around like the vane on the sta- 
ble roof. 

Captain Tom is quick to note and take advantage 
of this change in the tide. He sees how swarthy 
Francois trembles and looks scared. 

To strike while the iron is hot is his motto. 

“ Messieurs, look at yonder craven beast ! He has 
assailed the character of this young girl. He is a 
coward, and no Frenchman. Let me tell you my 
belief. If he were taken and searched perhaps evi- 


A MYSTERY OF THE CONVENT. 


27 


dence would be found that would prove him a spy.” 

Hardly are the words out of Captain Tom’s lips 
than with a roar the Amazons hurl themselves upon 
the giant. He fights like a demon, and at one time 
threatens to escape, but others come to the assist- 
ance of his enemies, and down the street they cap- 
ture him, holding his arms while the search is made. 

Ere five seconds more have gone a shout is heard. 
Hands are raised aloft, bearing papers that have 
been taken from the person of Francois— papers 
that contain mystic marks, plans of the fortifica- 
tions, and figures estimating the number of troops 
in Paris. 

“Hang him!” is the cry. 

A rope appears as if by magic, and the noose is 
slipped over the man’s neck. Then with jest and 
shout they drag their intended victim in the direc- 
tion of the nearest lamp-post. 

Captain Tom makes no effort to save the man. 
Indeed, after having learned that this wretch had 
insulted the blind girl, and sought to make her the 
victim of the mob's fury, he even feels a savage 
satisfaction in the thought that justice is about to 
overtake the fellow. 

Just at this moment occurs something not down 
on the programme. 

A shell, cast from a Krupp gun on the heights of 
Chatillon, drops into the street not forty feet be- 
yond the surging crowd. There is a blinding flash, 
a terrific explosion, cries of horror and alarm. 

The bonfire still burns. 

Captain Tom has been knocked down by the 
concussion, though from the way in which his head 
aches he at first imagines that a piece of the shell 
has brained him. 


28 


A MYSTERY OF TEE CONVENT. 


He struggles to his feet. 

Such a sight as that which confronts him ! It is 
enough to fill one with horror. That particular 
Prussian shell has done more damage than any yet 
sent into the doomed city. 

Half a dozen of the Amazons lie upon the street 
maimed or killed ; others crawl away, or, rising to 
their feet, hasten to the shelter of door-ways, as 
though fearing a repetition of the disaster. 

Down the street a flying figure catches the atten- 
tion of the American. It is the giant Francois. 
Satan looks after his own, and this engine of de- 
struction, sent from the earthworks of his friends, 
has passed by, leaving the German spy unscathed. 

“We may meet again,” mutters Tom. 

Then he suddenly remembers the blind girl. He 
fears that she may have been injured by the terri- 
ble explosion, and turns to find that she is no longer 
at his side. He looks around in bewilderment, not 
able to tell where she may have gone. It is too 
much to believe that she could have passed out of 
sight down the street in this short space of time. 

He eyes the houses near him suspiciously, as 
though under the impression that one of them may 
have given her ingress. 

Then, marking the locality in his mind, he leaves 
the scene of the explosion. Already people are 
flocking to the spot from every quarter just as 
buzzards scent carrion afar off. So these vultures 
of the great city flock to feast their eyes on the 
sight of blood. 

Captain Tom has been greatly agitated by the re- 
cent events. As he walks along he mutters to him- 
self, and certain words let fall in a voice above a 
whisper give an indication to his thoughts. 


A MYSTERY OF THE CONVENT. 


29 


“ It is the irony of fate. Surely that voice, that 
figure, was Myra’s; but blind. Great heavens! 
what does that mean? Is this a dream? Am I 
awake? Perhaps the continual roar of the great 
guns has unsettled my reason. Nonsense! Things 
are perfectly clear before my eyes. Either that 
girl was Myra, whom I met so strangely at Rome, 
or else one who strangely resembles her. What 
could bring her here? It was under the shadow of 
the obelisk on the Monte Pincio that I last saw 
Myra, and she was not blind then, for the bright 
eyes made sad havoc with the battered element I 
call my heart. There is a mystery here, and I can- 
not solve it now, but I will come again to this place 
and look for the girl I saved from the mob’s mad 
fury. Just now I have something deeper to play.” 

He ceases to commune aloud. If his thoughts are 
still on the subject there is no outward manifesta- 
tion of the fact. 

Thus he finally finds himself in front of a convent. 
The gray walls rise before him cold and pitiless. 
He looks up the street and down to see whether the 
“ shadow” is in sight ; the dark form that for days 
and nights lias followed him wherever he may have 
gone. 

Nothing can be seen of a suspicious nature. Per- 
haps the pursuit has been given up. 

He faces the convent. The door is near by, and 
ascending the few steps he pulls the bell. 

Paris no longer knows silence. Her citizens sleep 
with the distant growling of the Prussian siege 
guns, the heavier detonations of Mont Valerien, and 
the bursting of shells among the houses, as their 
lullaby. 

The evil days have come when “ children cry for 


30 


A MYSTERY OF TEE CONVENT. 


bread, and there is no bread in Israel.” Famine 
threatens to be a worse foe than the foreign foe 
encamped about her walls. 

In this quarter an occasional shell drops, and 
already the convent has been badly used. By some 
accident its gray walls have been picked out by 
the German gunners miles away as a good object 
at which to sight their guns in the day-time. 

In answer to his ring a black-robed figure comes 
to the little wicket in the door, exchanges a few 
words with the American, and then opens the 
heavy iron barrier, inviting him to enter. 

He has been here before, and the way is familiar; 
so he passes on to a small parlor or reception-room, 
where the gas burns low. 

Here he awaits the coming of one for whom he 
has inquired. It is a strange hour to make a call, 
but of late Paris has known no night since the ter- 
rible bombardment began. 

While he sits there Captain Tom allows his 
thoughts to range backward. He finds his curiosity 
regarding the young girl very keen. 

What could bring a blind girl out upon the streets 
at such an hour? Had a shell demolished her home? 
How could she run to him and beseech his assist- 
ance if blind? How did she know he was an Amer- 
ican even before he had uttered a single word? 

These are pertinent questions. 

They worry Captain Tom immensely. 

With an impatient gesture he turns away from 
the contemplation of such mysteries, and glances 
around at the walls. Then he picks up a book 
lying on the table, and idly turns the pages. 

It is an album. Faces interest him deeply, and 
he looks from page to page. At the very last he 


“WINE IS A MOCKER! TAKE CARE, CAPTAIN TOM." 31 

f nds himself gazing upon the picture of a young 
girl. Back of her can be seen dimly the walls of 
the famous ruin, the Coliseum. 

The man holds his breath. He has made a dis- 
covery that appalls him. Under the figure is writ- 
ten the name “Myra.” It is the girl whom he left 
in Rome, who has eluded his search so long, and 
whose counterpart he has rescued on this very 
night. 

Why should the picture of the pure and artless 
Myra be found in the album of this plotting Ger- 
man spy, Linda Dubois? 


CHAPTER IV. 

“WINE IS A MOCKER! TAKE CARE, CAPTAIN TOM.” 

The rustle of a woman’s drapery arouses Captain 
Tom from the reverie into which he has uncon- 
sciously fallen while gazing at the sweet face in the 
album. 

He looks up. In the narrow door-way stands a 
woman. She w r ears the dress of a nun, but it is a 
mockery, for her cheeks are aflame with the roses 
of health, such as can never be seen on the face of 
a sister who denies herself the pleasures of the 
world, and fasts in the solitude of her cell. 

The vail will hide these tell-tale cheeks should 
she choose to go abroad upon the streets, and even 
the lower classes, the canaille, respect the dress of 
a sister and the red cross she carries when upon an 
errand of mercy in wrar times. 

Captain Tom is not surprised at anything this re- 
markable woman might do, but he pretends to show 
astonishment. 


32 “WINE IS A MOCKEBl TAKE CARE, CAPTAIN TOM." 

“The dress becomes you, Mam’selle Linda, but 
why assume it? Do the rules of the convent require 
such sacrifices from each guest?” he asks, accept- 
ing her white, shapely hand. 

She laughs merrily. 

“Dear me, no, monsieur. It is mere caprice on 
my part. I am curious to see how the siege goes 
on. I would travel the streets unmolested, and in 
this garb I am able to go and come where I please. 
Most of the nuns are out now looking after the 
wounded, of whom the hospitals are full. They 
threaten to turn the churches into hospitals, and 
Notre Dame as well as this convent may echo with 
the cries of the wounded. The Lady Superior is an 
old friend of mine, and would do much to assist me, 
knowing that I mean to write a book on the siege 
of Paris.” 

She is seated near him now, and he continues to 
survey her closely. 

“Mam’selle, pardon me, but you are a remarkable 
woman, the most gifted lady I ever met. This 
wonderful book, when it appears, for whose reading 
is it intended — the French who are shut up in Paris, 
or the Germans who surround her walls?” 

The fair Linda takes no offense, but smiles and 
shakes the truant vail back from her face. 

“Wait and see, monsieur. You may be surprised 
to find your ideas permeating my book, for I hon- 
estly confess that much of my knowledge of mili- 
tary technique was gained through you.” 

Captain Tom winces. At the same time he smiles 
inwardly, if such a thing can be, for he has been 
grossly inaccurate in all things pertaining to the 
defense of Paris when engaged in conversation with 
the fair Linda. 


“WINE IS A MOCKER! TAKE CARE, CAPTAIN TOM." 33 

“You are a complete mystery to me, mam’selle. 
Think how strangely we have met. First, months 
ago, long before the siege began, I had the pleasure 
of stopping your runaway* horse on the Boulevard 
Montmartre. Our acquaintance began there. 

“ Later on we met by chance at the Louvre, in the 
Musee Egyptian, where I find you deeply engrossed 
with the relics from the pyramids, and especially 
some curious little metal vials said to contain love 
powders, strange poisons, and the like, used in the 
times of the ancient Pharaohs. 

“ A third time we lose sight of each other, and 
again our meeting is brought about by fate in a 
singular way. Walking with my friend, General la 
Croix, in the Faubourg St. Honore, we see a string of 
captured Uhlans being brought into the city. The 
fortune of war has thrown them into the hands of 
the French, and all along the streets they are sub- 
jects of curiosity and insult. 

“ I see a lady in a carriage draw near. Behold ! it 
is you, mam’selle. One of the Uhlans, an officer, a 
splendid specimen of manhood, attempts to break 
from the ranks ; he shakes his fist at you ; he cries 
out that you are a traitress, and deserve death; 
that you have deserted your lover and the native 
country of your mother’s people to seek the delights 
of Paris. 

“I see you shrinking back, appalled. I realize 
that this officer has once been your lover. He is 
dragged back into line, and the procession goes on. 
Later, influenced by more than mere curiosity, I en- 
deavor to find him in order to hear more about you 
in whom I am so deeply interested, but he has al- 
ready been exchanged. Some hidden power has 
set the wheels in motion for him. 


34 “WINE IE A MOCKER! TAKE CARE, CAPTAIN TOM” 

“ I see you often after this. We ride and walk to- 
gether. You take me into your confidence with 
regard to your book. When last we parted you told 
me this was to be your future address, and that I 
could see you here at any hour. I have come.” 

While the captain speaks the fair Alsatian has 
regarded him closely. She is playing a deep and 
dangerous game, and this man has entered it in a 
way she had not calculated upon when arranging 
her plans. 

At first he has been, as she believes, her dupe; 
her dupe now she loves as only one of her country 
can. The stalwart and brave American has become 
a hero in her eyes. All other games must play a 
minor part to the one in which she would make him 
her slave. 

She thinks she has captured him with her charms 
of face and figure. That, like other men before — 
the Uhlan officer, for instance— she can hammer his 
heart to suit her humor. 

That proves what a poor judge she is. Perhaps 
she may be able to read her own sex better. 

“ It is a strange hour, Captain Tom. Tell me why 
you have sought me?” she says, in her round, 
velvety voice, so like the soft purring of a cat. 

He hardly dares to tell her all, but may say 
enough to appease her curiosity. Quick wit is 
needed, so that suspicion may not be aroused. 

“ Listen, mam’selle, and let me tell you something 
that may interest you. We have seen much of each 
other during this time of siege, and you will par- 
don me if I say I have taken unusual interest in you 
—and your book.” 

The woman in the nun's dress taps her foot on 
the floor nervously, and shrugs her shapely should- 


“WINE IS A MOCKER! TAKE CARE, CAPTAIN TOM. n 35 

ers as she listens. This reference to her book 
sounds like sarcasm. It may be possible that Mon- 
sieur Tom does not have so much confidence in the 
production of the volume as he has given her to 
believe. 

“Proceed,” she says, lightly. 

“Under such circumstances, you remember, I ob- 
tained for you a steady and faithful body servant, 
one Mickey McCray, who has, I understand, served 
you faithfully all this while.” 

“Devoted Mickey. He is a diamond in the rough,” 
she murmurs. 

“Nor has my friendship ended there, my dear 
Mam’selle Linda. I have come here at this strange 
hour to prove that, though my heart beats not in 
sympathy with the cause you love, I still regard you 
highly. In a word, mam’selle, I am here to save 
you.” 

The woman shows emotion. Her eyes glitter 
like stars, and even in this moment of supreme trial 
her thoughts are more of the man than connected 
with her own danger. 

“To save me!” she repeats, in her velvety voice. 
“How good of you, Captain Tom. No doubt you 
risk much in coming. What danger threatens me 
now? Has the count decided to raid my fortress, 
the convent, and carry me off, or does my military 
admirer, the general, intend to fight a duel with 
you because of my poor flirtations?” 

“Neither, mam’selle. The warning I bring you 
concerns yourself alone. You must leave Paris.” 

She laughs in a strange way. 

“What you say is absurd, Captain Tom. Leave 
Paris, indeed! Why should I go; how can I pass 
through the lines?” 


36 “WINE IS A MOCKER! TAKE CARE, CAPTAIN TOM.” 

“You will have no difficulty up to seven to-mor- 
row night, when the gates are closed, provided you 
show this passport from Trochu. If you remain 
after that hour it is— death !” 

“Death!” 

“I have said it, mam’selle. The governor, who 
gave me this pass, will insist on the full penalty of 
the law if you are found within the walls after the 
gates close.” 

She awakes to a full sense of the danger menac- 
ing her. All thoughts of love are put aside. The 
woman gives way to the patriot. 

“ Monsieur le Captain, you can tell me what it is 
they accuse Linda Dubois of being?” 

“They say you are a spy, mam’selle. That, 
instead of gathering facts for a book, you transfer 
them to the hands of the enemy. I believe one of 
your tools has been captured.” 

“Poor Francois!” she says, musingly. “He al- 
ways said the guillotine would be his fate, but now 
it may be a sergeant and his file.” 

Francois! It is the name of the man who led 
the mob after the girl ; he who had so narrowly es- 
caped annihilation at their hands. 

Captain Tom realizes this; remembers that the 
fellow chased the girl whom he believes to be Myra, 
and putting things together, glances toward the 
album holding her picture. Dimly he attempts to 
form a theory, but it falls to pieces for want of con- 
necting links. 

“Do you admit the fact, mam’selle? You need 
have no fears of me, for the document you hold 
proves my friendship.” 

“Yes,” she says, boldly, endeavoring to magnetize 


“WINE IS A MOCKER! TAKE CARE, CAPTAIN TOM." 37 

him with her sparkling eyes. “ I admit the truth of 
the charge. I am a spy.” 

“You are as bold as you are beautiful,” he says, 
with something of irony in his tone. 

Although Captain Tom can admire a woman like 
Linda Dubois she is not the kind of being to capture 
his heart. The girl Myra, whom he had found and 
lost in Rome, and whose image has haunted him 
ever since, is of an entirely different type, and ap- 
peals to softer feelings within his heart. 

“Tell me, Monsieur Tom, what induced you to 
spare me? You, whom I have learned within six 
hours to be in the employ of the French government. 
Why did you secure me this chance of escape?” 

She hangs her whole existence on this sentence, 
holding her very breath while awaiting his answer. 

If he will only say, “Because I love you,” what 
cares she that the heavens are black above her; 
that the nature of her mission to Paris is no longer 
a secret, and an ignominious death very near? 
Love with a woman reaches beyond all else, and 
Linda Dubois possesses a heart of fire, coquette 
though she may have been. 

Captain Tom does not fall into the trap. His re- 
gard for the lovely woman has never gone beyond 
the admiration point, though he would think it poor 
policy to say so now. 

“It does not matter, mam’selle, what the motive 
may have been, I am enough interested in your wel- 
fare to intervene when the authorities have declared 
your life forfeited. I come with this paper. I warn 
you of the danger. You can quietly leave Paris 
and be safe among your friends.” 

“ And if I refuse to go” 

He shrugs his shoulders in the French way. 


38 “ WINE IS A MOCKER! TAKE CARE , CAPTAIN TOM." 

“That is your lookout, mam’selle. I should be 
sorry to hear you make such a decision,” he says, 
solemnly, “for as sure as the French forts are 
thundering their defiance at the foe just now Gov- 
ernor Trochu means to have you pay the penalty 
of your— indiscretion, if you remain in Paris.” 

Her manner changes. 

“Captain Tom, twice have you saved my life. 
Tell me what I can do in return. There is nothing 
too great to ask, if it lies in my power to grant.” 

He is deceived. Forgets the nature of the woman 
with whom he deals ; falls into a little trap, as it 
were, headlong. 

“I know of nothing, mam’selle, unless you would 
tell me who the young girl is whose picture is in 
yonder album — she at the Coliseum. How you be- 
came acquainted with her. Where she may be 
found at present ” 

He stops abruptly. Something in her face and 
eyes warn him. Just as the rattlesnake whirrs its 
note when strange feet draw near. 

“You are deeply interested in Myra?” she asks. 

He assumes indifference just in time. 

“She makes me think of a sister whom I lost 
years ago. Her name was Myra, too. Never mind, 
mam’selle, another time will do as well.” 

His words appease her. The angry look vanishes, 
and a smile covers her lovely face. 

“ Then you expect to meet me again some day, 
Monsieur le Captain?” 

“ It would be strange if fortune did not bring us 
together again,” he replies, rising. 

“You are not going so soon, monsieur?” 

“ It is as well. I have finished my business here ; 
why delay? Besides, my duty calls. It is as you 


THE SNAKE THAT LAY IN THE AMBER GLASS. 39 

say, I am in the government employ. My grand- 
father was Lafayette’s dearest friend, and I seek 
to repay the debt we owe to la belle France.” 

“You will drink a glass of light wine with me?” 
He looks into those glorious eyes. He is lost ! 
“Certainly, ma belle , with pleasure,” he murmurs. 
The woman in the nun’s dress leaves the room, 
and Captain Tom seats himself again. 

He is yawning behind his hand when a very singu- 
lar thing occurs. 

A figure glides into the room noiselessly, and 
lays a folded paper on the table at his elbow. 

Turning, the girl places a finger on her lips, 
motions to the table, and vanishes. 

Captain Tom jumps to his feet. 

“Bless my soul! This is odd! That was Myra 
herself or her wraith ! What next, I wonder? 
Nothing wrong with those eyes. Jupiter, how their 
glance thrills me. What does this paper mean? 
Quite dramatic, I declare!” 

He tears it open and reads : 

“Wine is a mocker. Take care, Captain Tom!” 


- CHAPTER Y. 

THE SNAKE THAT LAY IN THE AMBER GLASS. 

There can be no mistaking the nature of the note. 

It comes in the form of a warning, proving that 
a man may be in double danger within the walls 
of besieged Paris. 

The fact that Myra has sent it gives the brave 
American a peculiar feeling. He is threatened with 
a rush of blood to the heart, a very dangerous symp- 
tom among young persons. 


40 THE SNAKE THAT LAY IN THE AMBER GLASS. 

“ Bless her,” he murmurs, “beautiful mystery 
that she is. I save her from the mad populace, and 
now she returns the favor. Something within tells 
me this is not the end.” 

It may at any rate be the end of him unless he 
heeds the warning conveyed in Myra’s note, for 
danger hangs heavy over the head of Captain Tom, 
danger from more than one source, threatening to 
drag him down into the maelstrom which is about 
to rend fair Paris. 

Being a man of action instead of a dreamer, the 
American immediately sets his mind upon the 
game that is upon him. 

In one sense it is not a very great surprise, this 
fact of his being threatened by the fair Alsatian. 
She has been playing a desperate game with Cap- 
tain Tom as an antagonist, and, as present appear- 
ances would indicate, has lost. 

What her object may be in endeavoring to drug 
him he does not pretend to analyze just now, but it 
must be a deep one. 

She knows he is in the service of the French gov- 
ernment, while she works in secret with the Ger- 
man flag next her heart. This alone makes them 
foes ; but Captain Tom has seen much of the world, 
and unless he makes a terrible mistake the fair 
Linda cares more for him than an ordinary indi- 
vidual. This fact adds another strange link in the 
chain that is being forged around him. 

These things pass through his mind with great 
rapidity, and he has about made up a plan of ac- 
tion, when he hears the rustling of feminine gar- 
ments, that indicates Linda’s return. 

She comes with a bright smile, bearing a small 
silver salver, on which is a bottle of wine and two 


THE SNAKE THAT LAY IN THE AMBER GLASS. 41 

glasses. Her guest is sitting just where she left 
him. Linda glances at him keenly, but reads noth- 
ing upon that impassive face, for Captain Tom is 
not in the habit of betraying his thoughts. 

While sho sets the salver on a small table, he en- 
deavors to make up his mind how his wine is to be 
doctored. Surely, as it comes from the bottle it will 
be pure, for Linda means to drink in company with 
him. 

Thus he decides that the drug must already have 
been dropped into the goblet intended for him, or 
else her white fingers will manipulate it as she 
pours out the wine. 

Keen though his eyes are he fails to detect any 
such action on her part, and yet when she passes 
the amber goblet toward him, keeping the opal 
tinted one herself, he is quite certain the thing has 
been accomplished. 

Now comes the trying moment. He knows it may 
be death to him to swallow the contents of that 
glass, but in what way will he avoid it. With 
such a beautiful temptress smiling in his face, it 
were almost impossible for the ordinary man to 
resist the decree of fate— he would be strongly 
urged to seize his glass, clink it against her own, 
and swallow the decoction prepared by her fair 
hands. 

Men have gone to their deaths with their eyes 
wide open before now, when the blow has been 
struck by a woman they loved, and history will 
continue to repeat itself many times ere this hoary 
old world of ours gives way to the ravages of decay, 
and drops back to the cold, cheerless order of a 
moon. 

In this instance one thing saves Captain Tom — 


42 THE SNAKE THAT LAY IN THE AMBER GLASS. 

he is not in love with the fair Alsatian, no matter 
what the state of her feelings toward him may be. 
Thus he is able to control his actions and work out 
the plan for his own salvation. 

As he takes the glass she offers him his hand 
touches hers, and it seems as though a flash of elec- 
tricity must have passed through his whole system, 
such is the strange feeling which he experiences. 

Not by a single sign does he betray the fact that 
he is aware of the danger menacing him. He takes 
the fatal goblet — the rich odor of the wine reaches 
his nostrils— it gives him the idea he has been hunt- 
ing for. 

“ Pardon, mam’selle, but unless I mistake, you 
have respect for a vow, however lightly taken.” 

He says this gravely. The Alsatian turns pale. 
Is he about to refuse to drink? 

“ Merci, monsieur, you have not forsworn all our 
native wines — you have not become a teetotaler 
since last we rode past the cafes chantants on the 
Champs Elysees, stopping to taste the best poor 
Monsieur Jacques can put before his guests in these 
troublous times?” 

The American laughs lightly. 

“ Oh, mam’selle, it is not so bad as that. I have 
not forsworn the wines you Parisians drink like 
water, but once upon a time I made a solemn vow 
that never again would I taste this particular vin- 
tage unless it had that peculiar piquancy which a 
little grated nutmeg alone can give.” 

Linda utters an exclamation — her face at once 
loses its frown — she is again smiling. 

“I fear you may think me foolish, but an old 
bachelor like myself sometimes falls into the evil 


THE SNAKE THAT LAY IN THE AMBER GLASS. 43 


practice of indulging these idle fancies— no doubt 
they are selfish— — ” 

“ Say no more, Monsieur Tom. Why should you 
apologize for such a simple thing? It is I who 
should beg pardon for not anticipating your wants. 
Have the goodness to excuse me for a moment and 
I will see whether they have such a thing in the 
house.” 

He is about to murmur, “With pleasure,” but 
thinking the words too significant, merely bows 
and smiles. The fair Linda sweeps out of the room, 
only too anxious to obey a bachelor’s whim. 

Ah! the coast is clear. Captain Tom has been 
reclining indolently in his easy-chair, but he 
speedily loses that look of apathy. Hardly has 
the rustle of feminine garments passed beyond his 
range of hearing than he bends forward, takes the 
glass that he has deposited upon the tray, smells 
of its contents, holds it up so that the light shines 
through the rich wine held within, and then shakes 
his head, as if baffled in the attempt to discover the 
identity of the drug it contains. In addition to sev- 
eral other accomplishments, Captain Tom is inter- 
ested in the strange elements of the science of 
poisons — toxicology — and he has fancied it would 
be easy to discover the nature of the scheming 
Alsatian’s drug. 

He does not mean to stop there. Danger lurks 
in that amber goblet, and cannot be dislodged any 
too soon. Already he has seen the opportunity. 
There is an open fire-place in the room, where a 
fire, made down for the night, smolders. He 
turns toward it, glass in hand, bends down, empties 
the wine in among the ashes, and then rises with a 
grim smile of satisfaction. 


44 THE SNAKE THAT LAY IN 1HE AMBER GLASS. 

Taking out a snowy pocket-handkerchief he ruth- 
lessly thrusts it into the goblet, which he instantly 
cleans with the neatness and dispatch of a high- 
toned waiter at the Hotel de Louvre. 

Still he is not done. 

The glass must be filled again just as the fair 
Alsatian left it. Captain Tom’s hand is as steady 
as a rock while he allows the ruby fluid to escape 
until a certain imaginary line upon the goblet is 
reached. 

Then he sets the bottle down with a grimace at 
its lightened condition, and inwardly hopes Linda 
will not have her attention called to the lowered 
line of its contents. 

He is careful to place things just as they were, 
and then leans back in his chair with a sigh of sat- 
isfaction. Fortune has smiled upon him. It was 
not so very difficult a matter, after all. 

Thus a short interval passes, and then, attracted 
by a rustling of the curtains in the quarter where 
Myra had vanished, the American looks up to see 
that sweet face among the folds of the portiere. 
One finger is pressed upon her lips, indicating 
silence ; she shakes her head, blows him a kiss, and 
is gone. 

Captain Tom feels strangely agitated. There is 
a volcano within his veins that threatens a speedy 
eruption. Somehow the presence of the girl whom 
he has so singularly met on several occasions 
always thrills him in this way. His thoughts are 
interrupted, for he hears Linda coming. She en- 
ters the room, breathing hard, as though it has 
been something of an effort to reach the culinary 
department of the sacred convent. 

Still her face is marked by triumph, and she holds 


THE SNAKE THAT LAY IN THE AMBER GLASS. 45 

aloft a nutmeg grater as a victor might the spoils 
ot conquest. 

“Ah, Captain Tom, cruel tyrant, see what I have 
done to humor your caprice — reddened my cheeks 
by the exertion until I look only fit for the kitchen.” 

The bachelor, thus brought to the bar, vehemently 
protests, and declares that he never saw her look 
more charming, which compliment from the man 
she loves has the effect of making her eyes sparkle, 
though she rattles on : 

“You are like the rest of your sex, monsieur 
— gay deceivers all. You have learned in Paris to 
flatter. Do not shake your head and look displeased. 
I am not a silly girl, but one accustomed to reading 
men.” 

All this while she has been scraping the nutmeg 
into his wine, until the surface is covered with the 
floating dust, at which stage Tom firmly but gently 
clasps her wrist. 

“ Enough, manTselle. A spoon, if you please, and 
then we will drink to our meeting again, when this 
cruel war is over.” 

“ I shall never forget that it is because of your 
regard for me, Captain Tom, that I am indebted 
for my life. But for that these Parisians, who are 
shut up like rats in a trap, would before this hour 
have taken me to the Prison La Roquette, and per- 
haps to the guillotine in front.” 

Her dark eyes are fastened upon his while she 
thus speaks, and the man of nerve, who has hunted 
tigers in the jungles of India, feels more uneasy un- 
der this glance than he ever remembers has been 
his lot when facing a striped Bengal devil among 
the tall grasses beyond his bungalow. 

This woman is dangerous, whether she hates or 


46 THE SNAKE THAT LAY IN THE AMBER GLASS. 

loves ; her dazzling beauty renders her doubly so ; 
she has a keen mind, and when battling for some 
object which has become sacred in her eyes, whether 
country or lover, will not allow any scruples to 
stand in the way to success. With her all’s fair 
in love or war.” 

Captain Tom idly stirs the contents of his glass, 
but his mind is aflame ; he puzzles over the mean- 
ing of this scene, and resolves to make a desperate 
attempt to solve it. 

He is afraid of no danger, and once he has made 
up his mind nothing of an ordinary nature can cause 
him to change it. 

The time has come; he removes the spoon and 
raises his glass. 

“ Mam’selle, you and I, by the fortunes of war 
chance to be on opposite sides, but that should not 
make us foes, any more than it prevents us from 
each toasting the cause dear to our hearts. Here, 
then, is to the Right ; may it succeed no matter on 
which side it lies.” 

“I can drink to that toast, Monsieur Tom,” the 
fair Alsatian cries immediately. 

They drain their tiny glasses. 

“I pity you, monsieur,” she laughs, evidently 
noting the grim look which he cannot keep from 
showing upon his face as he quaffs the villainous 
compound ; but Tom is game to the backbone, and 
at once boldly declares : 

“ Ah ! that was nectar fit for the gods ! and all the 
more delightful because it has been brewed by such 
lovely fingers. I don’t wonder some of the ancient 
worthies we read about thought it a privilege, when 
about to commit suicide, to have the fatal glass 
handed to them by one they loved. I should im- 


THE SNAKE THAT LAY IN THE AMBER GRASS . 47 

agine, as you must perceive, mam’selle, that it — 
what the duse was I about to say — well, it doesn’t 
matter anyway, for really I must be going. You 
see, the fellows in the works on Mont Yalerien 
will be out of ammunition, and I chance to know 
that provisions are being received in Paris by the 
underground passage. Jove! what ails me, any- 
how? Do you know, my wits seem wandering. I 
believe you must have intoxicated me with one of 
your divine glances, my dearest Linda,” he rambles 
on, while he clasps her white hand, raising it to his 
lips several times in a sort of maudlin way. “I 
can’t remember ever having experienced this 
strange sensation before. Why, my eyes are like 
lead— my senses reel! Confusion take it, I fail to 
see anything but dancing lights. I shall not let 
you go, Linda. This must be a vertigo, caused by 
anxiety and improper food during the siege. It will 
soon pass. Just now I would give all I possess for 
a wink — of — sleep.” 

The Alsatian’s face is gleaming with triumph, 
but she looks upon the American with love, not 
hate ; a troubled expression might also be seen upon 
her face, as though in her mind she is uneasy con- 
cerning the future. 

She passes the free hand caressingly over Captain 
Tom’s white brow. How tenderly it lingers among 
his thick locks. 

“Sleep and fear not, Tom. Your Linda is here. 
She will watch over you. Sleep— sleep ” 

The soft tone of her voice alone is a lullaby ; how 
she lingers upon his name ; it thrills the man to 
realize that this scheming beauty loves him; he 
thinks of the rattlesnake of his native country, 
so velvety soft, and yet quick as lightning to resent 


48 


MICKEY M’CRAY. 


the coming of an intruder. Somehow this fair Ger- 
man spy makes him draw a comparison with the 
serpent, whose warning rattle has been the last 
sound in many a poor doomed wretch’s ear. 

Murmuring low words, disconnected and in real- 
ity meaningless, poor Captain Tom finally lies back 
in his chair, as in a stupor. Mam’selle Linda ceases 
her caressing movement — she bends down and looks 
into his face. 

“ At last, my king!” she murmurs. 

A fascination draws her down close to his mus- 
tached face, then turning she suddenly leaves the 
room. 

Hardly has she passed beyond the portals of the 
door than the apparently sealed lids of the Ameri- 
can’s eyes fly open, and he breathes: 

“That was a treacherous kiss; but in the dis- 
charge of his duty I trust Tom Pilgrim can endure 
much. I impatiently await the siren’s next move.” 

A great surprise was in store for Captain Tom. 


CHAPTER VI. 

MICKEY M’CRAY. 

The man who thus breathes his thoughts half 
aloud is a peculiar mixture. He has never known 
what fear was in the face of a human or brute foe, 
and yet his heart is troubled when he thinks of the 
lovely Alsatian who has expressed her love for 
him. A woman might make him tremble where 
no other power under heaven could have the same 
effect. 

He lies in the chair perfectly motionless, but his 


MICKEY M'CRAY. 


49 


mind is very busy endeavoring to solve this strange 
enigma. 

One thing is evident; it has not been poison 
which Linda placed in the amber glass. The snake 
that lurked there was only calculated to steal his 
senses away and leave him powerless. 

Why? 

Captain Tom has decided to adopt a bold course, 
and discover, if he can, what the motive of the 
Alsatian spy may be. He does not believe she is 
acting wholly from her own will ; some power there 
is behind the throne that forces her to thus make 
a prisoner of him. He has already made up his 
mind with regard to one point. It has been sus- 
pected by Governor Trochu and his generals, for 
some time past, that in Paris there is a certain 
league banded together with the purpose of con- 
veying information to the hated enemy. 

These spies have thus far managed to outwit the 
keenest detectives in the city, which has for long 
years had the reputation of possessing the shrewd- 
est officers in the world. 

From time to time their dire influence has been 
felt, and always at the expense of the brave men 
who defend poor Paris. A sortie is made at a point 
believed to be weak, and lo ! the desperate French- 
men rush into the jaws of a blind battery; they are 
mowed down, and the retreat becomes a panic. It 
is planned to blow up one of the Prussian forts on 
Chatillon, but at the hour arranged for the ex- 
plosion, a regiment of Uhlans drops into the secret 
works, and behold, every engineer is gobbled— 
the plan is a failure. 

These little incidents have a depressing effect 
upon the French forces; they know their plans 


50 


MICKEY M’CRAY. 


have been betrayed by some one who is trusted; 
they are ready to meet the Prussians of King Will- 
iam and Bismarck face to face, and fight to the 
death, but the consciousness of foes within the 
councils of their leaders unnerves them, rank and 
file. 

It is with the great hope of learning something 
about this secret cabal that Captain Tom resolves 
to take the risk, and allow himself to be the creature 
of circumstances. 

He is not long left alone, for again the rustle of 
the curtain tells him some one comes ; then he feels 
a soft hand passed over his face. 

What is this that drops? Tears! Great heavens ! 
who cares enough for him to weep over his fate? 

He is tempted to partly open his eyes, but a low 
voice comes to his ear— he will wait. The words 
that fall are in French, but Tom understands it as 
well as his mother tongue ; his ears greedily drink 
in all that is said. 

It is Myra, and she mourns over him as a mother 
might over a wayward child. A queer comparison, 
perhaps, and yet there is something in her words 
and manner that make Captain Tom feel a culprit. 

“ Poor Captain Tom ! It is as I feared. Her eyes 
have bewitched him. He forgot my warning, and 
like others before, he has paid the penalty. He 
saved me, and in spite of his folly I must keep him 
from this dreadful fate. How noble he looks, and, 
how brave Ho wonder she loves him in her tiger 
way', but she shall not have him ; his fate does not 
lie that way,” 

The soft hand passes over his brow. For the life 
of him Captain Tom cannot refrain from suddenly 
opening his eyes. 


MICKEY 31’ CRAY. 


51 


She sees him, and starts back with a little gasp 
of alarm, but the bold adventurer has already im- 
prisoned that fugitive hand, and is pressing it rap- 
turously to his lips. 

“You— are— not drugged, Monsieur Tom?” she 
whispers, astonishment and delight struggling for 
the mastery. 

She makes a faint show of dragging away the 
little hand he is figuratively devouring, but he will 
not allow such a thing. 

“Yes, drugged with happiness when you are 
near, ma belle . I believe if I were dead and you 
touched me life would come again.” 

“Fie, monsieur, you rave,” she breathes, placing 
a hand over his mouth, which he promptly kisses. 

“Plainly, then, mam’selle, I heeded your warn- 
ing.” 

“And the drugged wine?” 

“ Was soaked up by the ashes in yonder fire-place. 
It was a pity to waste it so, but,” with an express- 
ive shrug, “under the circumstances I thought it 
best. How can I thank ” 

“Say no more, monsieur. This is no time for 
wasting words. Your life is in danger.” 

“I know it,” he replies, laconically, looking up 
into her sweet eyes, as though he would turn her 
words to another meaning. 

Blushing, the girl goes on : 

“You must leave this building — at once!” 

“Impossible, mam’selle. I am drugged, you 
know,” he replies, grimly. 

“You will fall into the power of the secret league 
that all Paris knows about and fears, yet cannot put 
a hand on a single individual member.” 

“For that reason only I remain.” 


52 


MICKEY M’CRAY. 


She catches his meaning at last, and a look of 
mingled admiration and alarm shows itself upon 
her face. She lets fall a little French exclamation 
of despair. 

“ Can nothing turn you from this determination, 
Monsieur Tom?” she entreats, wringing her hands, 
which at last she has freed from his clasp. 

“ Nothing — save death.” 

He says it quietly. Captain Tom is far from be- 
ing a boaster, and can hardly be influenced to speak 
of adventures in his career which would make 
other men heroes. 

“It is a pity, and you so handsome, so brave. But 
you may succeed — mon Dieu , who knows?” with a 
sudden inspiring thought. 

“I mean to,” says the captain, quietly. 

The girl suddenly starts and listens. 

“ I hear voices — they come ! Au revoir , Monsieur 
Tom, and remember 1 may be near when least you 
expect it. You will see strange things. The good 
Father above protect you and save poor, unhappy 
France!” 

She is gone as suddenly as she appeared ; these 
words have been breathed into the ears of the Amer- 
ican rather than spoken, and he is left there alone. 

Hot for long; already has he caught the sounds 
that frightened away his good angel, and it is evi- 
dent that the speakers approach, so he once more 
lies in his chair as though bereft of his senses, his 
head resting on his left shoulder. 

They enter the room. A man's voice sounds 
among the others, and its full, rich tones arouse a 
warm feeling in the heart of the American. 

It is Mickey McCray. 

The latter is a man of considerable education, and 


MICKEY M'CRAY. 


53 


as smart as he is witty. He has looked up to Cap- 
tain Tom as his savior, and would lay down his life 
if need be for the American. Like his employer, 
Mickey is a rolling stone, a soldier of fortune, ready 
to float with the wind, but when once set in his 
way, impossible to move. 

The manner of their meeting was singular, and 
may be briefly mentioned. Strange things occur in 
Paris every day, and none may wonder that an im- 
pulsive Irishman like Mickey McCray usually found 
himself in a scrape with each revolving twenty-four 
hours. 

Months before, when the siege was only talked 
about as a mere possibility, Captain Tom found 
himself one of a crowd of thousands pressing around 
the Tour de St. Jacques in the Rue de Rivoli, and 
gazing upward. From mouth to mouth word went 
that a crazy man had gone to the top of the tower 
to leap off as the result of a foolish bet. The excit- 
able French temperament showed itself, and there 
was as great a commotion in the neighborhood as 
though the ghost of Bonaparte had appeared. 

Then a man was seen on top of the tower. It was 
from this place history tells us the signal for the 
massacre of the Huguenots was given nearly three 
hundred years before. This figure advanced to the 
edge above and then seemed appalled at the sea of 
faces below. A thousand tongues shouted out to 
him, arms were waved to keep him from his mad 
purpose. Then several gendarmes made their ap- 
pearance on the high tower of St. Jacques, and the 
madman was in custody. 

Captain Tom, urged by curiosity, fought a way in 
to see the prisoner, as he suspected he was a for- 
eigner, an Irishman, and when he heard Mickey 


54 


MICKEY M’ CRAY. 


McCray’s story he was tempted to laugh, only that 
the poor fellow looked so downcast in the hands of 
the officers. 

It was only a wager. A companion had made a 
bet that he could have two thousand persons gath- 
ered around the tower in the time it took Mickey to 
mount the stairs, giving five seconds to a step. He 
had circulated this startling report, and won the 
wager, but afraid of the fury of the crowd, he had 
fled, leaving the victim of his practical joke in 
the toils. 

Captain Tom took to the Irishman on sight. 

He recognized a kindred spirit, and following to 
the police headquarters had interceded for the now 
alarmed Mickey. By some secret power the Amer- 
ican got him off with only a warning never to at- 
tempt such a feat again, for the authorities seemed 
determined to believe that his wager was really to 
make a jump from the Tour de St. Jacques, trust- 
ing to the good luck that hovers over fools and 
Irishmen to savediis life. 

From that hour Mickey McCray had been the de- 
voted friend of the American. There is nothing 
under the sun he would not attempt if Captain Tom 
expressed a wish. 

Why he is in the service of the fair Alsatian, the 
spy of Von Moltke, the reader can doubtless guess 
with little trouble. It has not been done without a 
deep purpose, and the American now seems in a fair 
way to reap the full benefit of his strategy. 

Three persons enter the apartment. They are 
Linda, the Irishman, and a nun. As the German 
spy has so great an influence over the Lady Supe- 
rior, the lay sisters and nuns are ready to obey her 
slightest request : 


MICKEY M'CRAY. 


55 


“You see,” says the fair Alsatian, it is as I told 
you. He appears to be dead, but in truth he only 
sleeps.” 

Mickey takes up one of the American’s arms and 
lets it drop ; it falls heavily. 

“Begorra, it’s precious little life there is in his 
body. If I could gabber French like a parrot I’d 
be after giving }^e my opinion of this business, bad 
luck — murder” dancing like a dervish in a Con- 
stantinople mosque. 

“What ails you?” demands Linda, eying the man 
suspiciously, as though she fears that he may have 
taken leave of his senses. 

“Sure’s it’s my belief a rat bit me toe, or else I 
stepped on a bloody tack,” roars McCray, all the 
while perfectly aware of the fact that it has been 
the foot of Captain Tom that has so suddenly de- 
scended upon his own with a grinding empasis. 

The effect is gained. Stopped in the middle of his 
tirade, Mickey does not again attempt to free his 
mind, and the disclosure of his own relations with 
the American is for the time being at least ren- 
dered obscure. 

The nun has not a word to say ; perhaps she is un- 
der a vow of eternal silence, and though ready to 
hear and do whatever those in a position to order 
may command, she must never again allow her 
voice to be heard. 

She is as large and strong as Mickey himself, and 
is apparently used to lifting burdens, which would 
explain why Linda has brought her to this place. 
At a word from the Alsatian, whose stay in Paris 
is limited to twenty-four hurs, unless she wishes to 
die, these two raise up the seemingly senseless form 
of Captain Tom. 


56 


MICKEY M’ CRAY. 


Linda leads the way, light in hand, her somber 
garments causing her to look like some strange 
priestess. The lamp-light falls upon her handsome 
face, and a close observer would notice the various 
emotions that play by turns there. Evidently she 
has deeper interests in this game than any one sus- 
pects. 

They pass through gloomy corridors. The con- 
vent is almost deserted noAv, since there is such a 
demand for nurses among the wouunded defenders 
of Paris, so that they meet but one or two sable fig- 
ures on the way, and these shrink into cells at one 
side to allow the strange procession to pass by. 
From some distant chapel come the voices of a 
band of sisters chanting a matin hymn, for it is 
nearer morning now than midnight. Above all else 
sounds the roar of battle upon the hills around Paris, 
the deep throbbing sound of the heavy Krupp siege 
guns, and the nearer reports from the French forts. 

Even as they wend their way along there comes a 
crash tha makes the solid walls quiver. A shell has 
struck the convent, its tower of gray stone has been 
hurled down a wreck, but the voices from the clois- 
ter instead of ceasing in deadly fear appear to grow 
louder. 

Linda Dubois smiles grimly. These shells cannot 
fall too often or work deadly destruction upon fair 
Paris too rapidly to suit her humor. She hates the 
city, hates all in it, but one, and he is now seem- 
ingly hepless and in her power. 

They have descended a long sloping corridor, and 
are now in the cellars of the convent, where doubt- 
less all the treasures of the order have been buried 
against the fatal day when the Germans shall oc- 
cupy the capital of the world. Perhaps the French 


THE CONSPIRACY OF THE CATACOMBS. 


57 


have never forgotten the fate of Moscow during 
Napoleon’s campaign, and fear that the same doom 
will come upon their own beloved city. 

Under the orders of the imperious woman Mickey 
and the nun deposit their burden on the stones. 
Then they raise a large flag in the corner of the cel- 
lar, which act reveals a flight of steep steps. 

In going down Mickey carries the burden alone, 
and is not surprised to have a whisper wafted in at 
ihis ear: 

“Say little, but notice everything. Above all, 
stand by to aid me.” 

He presses the arm of Captain Tom to prove that 
he understands, then with the help of the nun the 
American is carried along a corridor cut in the rocks, 
until finally Linda gives the word, and he is laid 
down. 

Watching his chance, Captain Tom takes a 
glimpse above. What he sees is well calculated to 
make a less venturesome man shiver. The walls of 
the cavern are covered with thousands of skulls 
and bones from the arms and legs of human beings. 
An inscription is over all. He reads even with that 
one glance what many travelers have seen — “ Tom- 
beau de la Revolution” 


CHAPTER VII. 

THE CONSPIRACY OF THE CATACOMBS. 

They have brought him to the Catacombs of Paris, 
in whose great caverns it is calculated the bones of 
some three million human beings have accumu- 
lated. At periods like the Revolution deaths oc- 


58 


THE CONSPIRACY OF THE CATACOMBS. 


curred with such alarming frequency, a thousand or 
two a day, that even the church-yards were full, and 
some wise statesman conceived the idea of empty- 
ing them and removing the burial grounds outside 
the city. So the bones of the hundreds of thousands 
were collected and carried on funeral cars amid re- 
ligious ceremonies to the great caverns which had 
once been stone quarries, but were henceforth to be- 
come the Parisian catacombs. 

These underlie about a tenth of the city, and in 
some places houses have been known to sink into 
the caverns. At all times they are esteemed 
gloomy places, .and have been the refuge of more 
than one desperate gang of thieves whose ultimate 
destiny must be the galleys at Toulon. 

Captain Tom recognizes the place. He has been 
in the Tombs of the Revolution before. It does not 
surprise him very much to learn that the secret ca- 
bal of foreign spies have their rendezvous here; 
really, a more fitting place could hardly be selected. 

There is one main entrance to the catacombs, with 
some eighty odd steps, but a score or two minor en- 
trances afford ingress. At times these have, for 
various reasons, been closed up by the police author- 
ities, and thus far during the siege the people have 
been kept out of the caverns. 

Should the Prussian shells continue to fall as they 
have been doing this night in the Latin Quartier the 
distracted populace will demand that the catacombs 
be opened, in order that they may seek refuge there 
from the storm of iron hail rattling about them. 

When they have deposited Captain Tom upon the 
cold rock they stand there listening. 

Sounds from above are but faintly heard in this 
underground place— even the heavy discharges of 


TEE CONSPIRACY OF THE CATACOMBS. 69 

cannon a few miles away seem to be but a vibration 
of the earth, very delicate. 

They are out alone in this city of the dead. An- 
other light flashes into view, persons advance to- 
ward them, Linda holds the lamp, and eagerly she 
makes signals. 

They are returned. The fair Alsatian breathes a 
sigh of relief, and then, as if seized by a singular 
impulse, she bends down and looks in the face of 
the man lying there. Captain Tom's nerves are 
wrought up to a high pitch by the exciting events 
that have already occurred, and those impending, 
but he has proved himself a cool customer, and does 
not flinch under her close observation, even with 
the lamp held near his eyes. 

Men advance, and the American hears the deep 
guttural German. It would be fatal to a person to 
speak it upon the boulevards or in the pensions and 
cafes chantants of Paris at this time, when every- 
thing German is hated so bitterly, because the guns 
of Von Moltke are knocking at the gates of the 
proud capital. 

They come up, and although Captain Tom knows 
the risk he takes he cannot resist partly opening his 
eyes and peeping at them, these daring spies who 
have risked their lives in Paris in order to send 
word daily to their countrymen. 

He has expected to see Germans, and the shock is 
therefore all the more severe. Not one of them 
would be taken for a Teuton upon the streets. They 
are apparently Frenchmen, but the manner in 
which the Northern tongue is spoken proclaims their 
true nationality. 

Captain Tom sees much in that one look. The 
man upon whom his startled eyes fall first of all is 


60 


THE CONSPIRACY OF THE CATACOMBS. 


a prominent officer connected with the defense of 
the city, one of Trochu’s right hand men, and upon 
whom suspicion has never once fallen. 

One of the others the American also recognizes, 
while two are total strangers. He believes he would 
know them again, though. 

Strange greetings pass between them. The nun 
has vanished, perhaps retiring through the dark 
corridors to the convent, her mission done. Mickey 
McCray stands there with a blank look upon his 
face. It is astonishing how foolish the Irishman can 
appear when he desires. 

The men watch him suspiciously, but Linda sets 
all fears at rest by declaring that Mickey cannot 
speak or understand more than a word or two of 
the German language, so that his presence would 
not interfere with their consultation. 

With that they launch forth, plans are discussed, 
comments made upon the defenses and weak points 
in the French lines, and confidences exchanged 
concerning the positive end that now seems so near 
at hand. 

Little do they suspect that a pair of ears are drink- 
ing in every word eagerly. Captain Tom has al- 
lowed himself to be brought here for this very pur- 
pose. He is French in heart, though an American 
by birth, and in this bitter war between Gaul and 
Teuton all his sympathies are with the race of 
Lafayette, his grandfather’s personal friend. 

What he hears may cause these four men to be 
shot some fine morning at the city gates, or under 
the French ports. The chassepots of the National 
Guard have sent more then one spy to his long 
account since the siege of Paris began. 

Presently the talk becomes personal. The officer 


THE CONSPIRACY OF THE CATACOMBS. 


61 


in authority demands to know how the American 
comes here, and what are his relations with the 
government. His tone intimates that he would also 
like to understand what concern Linda has in his 
welfare. 

She tells much of the story— at least they know 
that Captain Tom is a secret agent of the French. 

This seems to be enough. Captain Tom hears a 
peculiar click-click. It sets his teeth on edge, know - 
ing that this means the drawing back of a revol- 
ver’s hammer. 

“ It is only a question of expediency,” says the 
confidant of Governor Trochu, for it is he who has 
drawn the weapon. 

In a moment it will touch the ear of the Ameri- 
can— a pressure of the finger and his doom is sealed. 
Still he moves not; his grit is simply astounding, 
since almost any man must have sprung into life 
at such a menacing peril. 

Captain Tom is ready to take the risk. He banks 
upon a human emotion, and that is love. Nor has 
he made a mistake. 

Mickey McCray has drawn a long breath, and 
is just on the point of hurling himself upon the gen- 
eral in his impulsive Irish way, when his quick eye 
notes something. A small, white hand has clutched 
the weapon of the officer, and with the firmness of 
iron turned it aside. 

“What would you do, madman?” asks Linda, 
looking into the man’s face. 

He mutters an exclamation. 

“ Rid the world of a dangerous man— one who has 
given our people much trouble I am sure. Come, 
Linda, release my weapon. It is but the fate of a 
spy at any rate.” 


62 


THE CONSPIRACY OF THE CATACOMBS. 


“You forget, general, he is my prisoner, not 
yours. I choose to spare his life.” 

“I believe you are in love with him,” cries the 
other, with some show of passion. 

“You are at liberty to believe anything you like. 
This man saved my life. I shall not see him in- 
jured by you.” 

Her manner is superb. Captain Tom never came 
so near being in love with her as he does at this 
moment, when she keeps the eager revolver of the 
traitor general from ending him. 

“Do you know what I’ve a great notion to do?” 
rates the man, grinding his teeth. 

“Let us hear, general.” 

“To tear my hand away from your clasp and 
finish him where he lies.” 

“You will not do it, general. I will tell you why. 
It is because you are a coward, and you know that 
I would avenge such an act on the spot.” 

He shivers under the look of this woman, for she 
has spoken words of truth. Although daring much 
in his capacity of a spy in the councils of the French 
leaders, he dares not arouse Linda Dubois to do 
her worst. 

“Would you shoot me?” he asks, reproachfully. 

“Try me and see.” 

With that she casts his hand from her, and at the 
same time draws a small revolver from her bosom. 

The man looks into her face, sees something 
there that tells him to beware, and puts away his 
own weapon. 

“As a favor to you, ma belle , I spare the Ameri- 
can’s life, but if he lives let him beware how he 
crosses my path.” 

Her lip curls in derision, for Linda has a very poor 


THE CONSPIRACY OF THE CATACOMBS. 


63 


opinion of this man, by whose side she has worked 
in the interests of her king. 

“ Depend upon it, Captain Tom is able to take his 
part, as you will find to your cost if ever you run 
across him,” she replies. 

“But why have you brought him here?” he con- 
' tinues, watching her suspiciously. 

“ I have my reasons. Listen, and I will tell you 
as much as I choose. In the first place I wished 
you all to recognize my zeal in behalf of our cause, 
for, although I will not allow you to murder this 
brave man in cold blood before my eyes, it is never- 
theless my intention that he shall no longer be of 
service to the enemy.” 

“ By making him your husband, Linda, you might 
take him into camp,” suggests the general, with a 
sneer. 

She ignores his presence, or at any rate pays no 
heed to his words. 

“I have brought him here for another reason. 
If our plans hold good, in two days more the Ger- 
man engineers will have succeeded in reaching the 
catacombs in their underground operations ; then, 
while the darkness of night hangs over all, whole 
brigades will pass through to appear with the rising 
sun in the center of Paris, whose doom will then 
be sealed. 

“For reasons of my own I desire that this man, 
my prisoner, general, should be secreted in this 
tomb at that hour.” 

“You do not say what your reasons are ; perhaps 
I can guess them.” 

“You are at liberty to do as you please,” she 
replies, coldly. “As for myself, I have been warned 
to leave Paris inside of twenty-four hours; when 


64 


THE CONSPIRACY OF THE CATACOMBS. 


the gates shut to-morrow night at seven my fate is 
sealed if I am found.” 

“And they know you to be a spy? This is singu- 
lar forbearance. Ah, I see, you owe it to him !” 

“ That is why I save his life. I have some sense 
of gratitude if I am Linda Dubois.” 

“What favor do you wish to ask of me? 

“You are quick to guess that I desire anything I 
Still it is true. Can you spare a couple of your men? 
Francois at least will no longer dare to show himself 
upon the streets.” 

“ I see you have heard of his narrow escape. He 
has become alarmed. The rope was very near 
him a few hours ago. Jacques also is a marked 
man. Both are at your service.” 

** A thousand thanks. I wish to leave them with 
my man to watch over the American. They are 
faithful?” 

“As true as the magnet to the pole,” declares the 
general, while to himself he adds, “so far as my 
personal interests are concerned.” 

“Then I accept your offer, general. Give them 
orders to obey me, while I speak to Mickey.” 

The officer took his men aside ; by accident they 
are close to the form upon the rock, so that Captain 
Tom hears every word that is spoken, and it may 
be set down as certain that he listens with the 
deepest attention, since the conversation so closely 
concerns his interests. 

“Listen, Francois, Jacques. I will leave you to 
guard this American. See to it that by morning 
he is a dead man.” 

“How shall it be done?” asks the fellow called 
Francois, who hates Captain Tom on his own ac- 
count, since he has recognized in him the man who 


THE CONSPIRACY OF THE CATACOMBS. 


65 


turned the fury of the populace from Myra upon 
himself in the streets of Paris. 

He has hardly recovered as yet from that terrible 
peril, and will never forget his fright. 

“ It will be easily accomplished. Pretend that he 
is trying to escape, fall upon him, and give him 
the knife.” 

“ And if the Irish devil interferes ” 

The general shrugs his shoulders : 

“ Parbleau! there are two of you ; what more do 
you want?” 

The men nod grimly. 

“One word more, general — the pay?” 

“Twenty gold Napoleons to each if you succeed. 
Failure may mean your death, for I chance to know 
something about this man. He is a hard fighter 
when aroused,” giving the form of poor Captain 
Tom a touch with his boot. 

“Consider it done,” says Francois, “and I only 
wish the time was at hand now.” 

“Patience, man. Revenge is all the sweeter 
for being delayed. Here comes the fair Linda. All 
is arranged,” he said to her; “my men are trans- 
ferred to your service. Order them as you will. 
As for myself, with Antoine I will accompany you 
to your hiding-place, and there look over the latest 
maps. Then we can signal the news from the old 
quay. The police may see the rocket ascend, but 
when they rush to the scene the place will be 
deserted.” 

“That is satisfactory, general. I see you are 
determined we shall be friends for the benefit of 
the flag under which we fight,” taking out a minute 
German banner and kissing it. 

“We will forget everything save that we belong 


66 


THE CONSPIRACY OF THE CATACOMBS. 


to the Fatherland, and are sworn to the service of 
our king, Wilhelm. I have something to show you, 
sent by Bismarck himself. Come ! 

She turns and gives Mickey one look. 

“ Remember!” 

Then she moves away. 

When Linda is gone the tomb seems to have 
lapsed back to its original darkness, for her pres- 
ence has brightened it. The heaps of skulls, the 
cryptogram formed of human bones upon the walls, 
whose meaning few can decipher — these things 
stand out with hideous distinctness under the 
blaze of the lamp which has been fastened to a 
bracket in the wall. 

Captain Tom is satisfied. He has been amply 
repaid for what he has endured, and although his 
eyes have seen little, his ears have been open. 

In one thing he is disappointed; he has not yet 
been able to fathom the secret of Linda Dubois and 
Myra. He remembers the latter exclaiming, “I am 
blind!” and yet her eyes have at another time 
dazzled him with their brilliancy — strange eyes, 
indeed, they must be to change their nature at the 
will of their owner. 

This is a personal matter; it will do to ponder 
over at some future time, but just at present other 
things demand attention. 

His own situation is precarious, since his guards 
have received instructions to make away with him 
as soon as possible ; but Captain Tom worries little 
on that account. 

Cautiously he opens his eyes and surveys the 
scene. The two guards are whispering together 
near the pile of skulls, while Mickey watches them 
suspiciously. 


THE CONSPIRACY OF THE CATACOMBS. 67 

The American moves his foot a trifle and taps the 
Irishman’s toes. In an instant the latter bends 
over him. 

“ They mean to murder me. Take care of one 
when the time comes, and leave the other to me,” 
whispers Tom. 

Already the guards have seen Mickey’s move. 

“Get up there. We understand — you would go 
through his garments. That shall be our pleasure 
after ” and a suggestive nod completes the sen- 

tence, spoken in French. 

Mickey obeys orders without a word, but he is on 
his guard, and when these fiends of the tomb at- 
tempt to carry out their plan of murder they will 
be apt to believe they have run up against an Irish 
buzz saw. 

The general’s orders were explicit. He desires 
that as little delay as possible may occur, and hence 
it is expected that in a short time Francois and his 
companion will get to work. 

Inch by inch Captain Tom is pushing his arm 
down. The movement is so slow that it does not 
attract attention, but all the while it draws nearer 
his pocket where lies the faithful weapon which in 
more than one desperate encounter has never failed 
him. 

Once he gets that in the firm grasp of his hand, 
and he dares defy double the number of foes that 
now confront him. 

All he asks is a fair show. A brave man needs 
no more to prove his courage. 

By this time Francois and his colleague have de- 
termined to earn the forty Napoleons without any 
further delay. They exchange a glance that means 
volumes, 


68 


CAPTAIN TOM ON DECK 


Jacques places himself between the Irishman and 
Captain Tom, but as soon as Mickey sees that the 
decisive moment is at hand he jumps at the burly 
spy with the fury of a stag hound. 

It is a circus to watch Mickey fight. He uses 
every muscle in his body, and although he has an 
antagonist much larger than himself, his agility 
amazes the enemy, who finds it hard to understand 
whether Mickey means to stand upon his head or 
climb on his back. 

At any rate Jacques is wholly taken up here, and 
cannot offer any assistance should his companion 
require it 

On his part Francois has leaped toward the pros- 
trate form of the American, and as he thus advances 
he gives vent to the cry : 

“He recovers! he would escape! Death to the 
American spy !” 


CHAPTER VIII. 

CAPTAIN TOM ON DECK. 

Francois’ alarm is all moonshine, of course, for 
as yet Captain Tom has not moved at all, but it 
serves the purpose of the man from Alsace, who 
desires to make it appear that he is about to leap 
upon a desperate enemy endeavoring to escape, and 
not a helpless man lying there senseless and still. 

There is enough French blood in him to give the 
desire for dramatic show. Think of a soldier bear- 
ing a pardon for a man about to be shot, sitting 
upon a hill-side for hours with his horse nibbling 
the grass, waiting until the crowd gathered, so that 
he could dash headlong among them, waving the 
paper and shouting, “Pardon!” at the very moment 


CAPTAIN TOM ON DECK. 


69 


when the file of soldiers were ready to fire ! That 
is what Francois once did when serving his time in 
the French army. 

When he utters his cry of alarm he is not a dozen 
feet from the prostrate American, and advancing at 
such a pace that the latter will have no more than 
sufficient time to sit up ere his enemy is upon him. 

The man is in deadly earnest, for he has drawn a 
cruel-looking knife shaped much like a Malay 
creese, and with this he doubtless intends to earn 
the Napoleons that are dancing before his eyes in 
such mad glee. 

At this critical instant from out the gloom beyond 
the range of the lamp-light a figure flashes. It 
crosses the intervening space with the speed of a 
spirit of the air. 

Francois sees and he recoils. 

“Myra!” falls from his lips. 

“ Coward ! poltroon ! you are only brave enough to 
stab a helpless man. Stand back! you shall not 
lay a finger on him !” 

Captain Tom is sitting up now, but no one pays 
any heed to him. 

Francois glares at the girl, who, like a spirit of 
light, has intervened between himself and his in- 
tended prey. 

Once he has professed to love this girl, but subse- 
quent events have caused him to change his mind, 
and he hates her most cordially. We have already 
seen how, in the blackness of his fury, he attempted 
to set the mob on her, under the pretense that she 
was what he really turned out to be — a German spy, 
and how a bomb from the Krupp gun at Chatillon 
was the only thing that saved him from the fury of 
the enraged populace. 


70 


CAPTAIN TOM ON DECK. 


Now he looks as though he could tear her to 
pieces. She stands between his vengeance and 
Captain Tom, as if her small figure could defend the 
American. 

“Out of the way, viper!” hisses the man. 

He brushes past her. She clings to his arm with 
loud crys of alarm. 

“Captain Tom, awaken! arouse yourself! The 
saints preserve you, or all is lost! Awaken!” 

Her voice resounds through that weird place 
where the bones of the victims of the Revolution lie. 

Francois, so enraged that he knows not and cares 
not what he does, gives his arm a desperate swing. 
Unable to maintain her hold, Myra is thrown to the 
rocky floor. 

The brute has conquered the weak girl, but his 
triumph is short-lived. One more step forward, 
flushed with his recent exertion, and he comes 
face to face with — a man. 

Captain Tom, as he sees Myra swung around so 
roughly and cast to the floor, feels every muscle 
and nerve in his whole athletic frame swell with 
renewed animation, eager to avenge the injury. 

As though made of steel springs he bounds to his 
feet. To the astounded Francois he seems just 
eight feet in height. The coward shakes as though 
he has the ague. It is one thing to slay Captain 
Tom in his sleep and quite another to meet him face 
to face with that black look upon his face. 

He walks directly up to Francois, his eye piercing 
in its intensity, burning into the other’s very brain. 
True, the German spy holds a terrible weapon in 
his hand, but his arm must have forgotten its cun- 
ning— at any rate he does not make the slightest 


CAPTAIN TOM ON DECK. 


71 


movement toward using the weapon upon his 
enemy. 

Captain Tom’s bearing awes his craven soul ; he 
acts like a man magnetized. 

His master deliberately plucks the knife from 
that murderous hand, and tosses it over among the 
grinning skulls, where it falls with a ghastly 
clatter. 

In so doing the American has one glimpse of 
Myra rising to her feet and pressing a cobweb of a 
kerchief to her cheek. It is only a scratch, to be 
sure, but her precious blood has been shed by this 
miscreant. 

The thought adds to Captain Tom’s fury. His 
hand seizes Francois by the throat with a grip that 
threatens to crush the bones. 

He shakes him as a terrier might a rat, and each 
time the terrified wretch’s teeth strike together like 
Spanish castanets. 

Between the shakes the American athlete growls 
out words something like these : 

“ Strike a lady, you miserable whelp! Try to 
turn the Amazons of the faubourgs upon her, will 
you? I would shake the last breath from your 
carcass only that I have a better fate in store for 
you. Do you hear, you coward? I am going to 
hand you over to Trochu, who has longed to make 
an example of every known German spy in Paris. 
He will soon have you fit food for the fishes of the 
Seine. That shall be your doom, you insulter of 
women, you valiant jackal, bold enough to put a 
knife in the back of a sleeping man. Why don’t 
you shriek aloud for mercy? Are your lips palsied, or 
do you scorn to ask a favor of me?” 

He gives his victim one last shake, and then looks 


72 


CAPTAIN TOM ON DECK 


into the man’s face, to discover that it is growing 
black under his terrible grip. This causes Captain 
Tom to remember that all of his power has been 
thrown into this effort, since the indignation 
aroused by the cowardly act of Francois has nerved 
his arm. 

He tosses the wretched man aside as one might 
a cast-off glove, and then turns around, to discover 
that Myra has vanished again, while the Irishman 
is dancing a hornpipe or a jig near the body of his 
fallen foe. 

Mickey has almost killed the fellow, but when 
his antagonist humanely desists, seeing the wretch 
helpless at his feet, the man has an opportunity to 
recover his breath. 

As he desires to make prisoners of them both, 
Captain Tom draws some stout cord from his 
pocket and fastens their arms. 

The men have become sullen. It is possible that 
the treatment to which they were subjected had 
something to do with the matter. At any rate, 
they look ugly, as though realizing what their 
doom will undoubtedly be. 

The American pities them not ; they knew the 
risks they were taking when they accepted the 
hazardous duty of serving as spies upon the move- 
ments of the Parisians, and now that fate has come 
upon them, the best they can do is to meet it with 
as much fortitude as they possess. 

Captain Tom does not care to remain longer in 
the dismal catacombs. If one of these prisoners 
can be influenced to confess everything in order to 
save his life, which is very likely, Governor Trochu 
and his generals are likely to hear some very inter- 
esting facts concerning the effort of the shrewd 


CAPTAIN TOM ON DECK. 


73 


German engineers to bore under the hills a passage 
that shall connect their camp with the underground 
city of the dead. 

Even as it is, enough has been learned of the 
plan to defeat it, although it has already become 
patent to the American that the doom of fair Paris 
is near at hand, since the anaconda toils of the 
besieging armies have been so constructed that 
they are now able to throw shells into the city on 
one side of the Seine, and must speedily convert it 
into the most gigantic ruin of the century, unless 
the obstinate spirit of the half -starved inhabitants 
is crushed, and a white flag sent out asking for 
terms from the Prussian field marshal or the king’s 
son, Frederick. 

Mickey McCray, under orders from the other, 
speedily arranges the two prisoners. They are 
fastened together, for Francois has recovered now, 
with not one word to say. Then the Irishman drives 
them before him like a yoke of oxen.- 

It suits his humor to amuse himself from time to 
time at the expense of the wretches, and even Cap- 
tain Tom has to smile at some of the witty fellow’s 
sallies. 

They leave the Tombeau de Revolution, and by 
a passage reach other similar caverns where the 
bones of the victims are piled high, until one stands 
aghast at the multitude of relics, and comes to the 
conclusion that Paris has more dead to the square 
acre than any city extant, not even excepting 
Rome. 

In this way they gain the corner of the triangle ; 
from this point their course changes, and in making 
for the main entrance they keep going farther away 
from the hills. 


74 A LITTLV AFFAIR UNDER THE WALLS OF PARIS. 


“Halt!” exclaims Captain Tom, and as the strange 
procession brings up he places his ear close against 
the wall of rock. 

Strange sounds are borne to him — the pick-pick- 
pick of determined workers in the bowels of the 
earth. Have some of the old convicts who were 
once upon a time wont to labor in these quarries 
returned to the scene of their life work? 

He knows that these sounds proceed from the 
German engineers, who have already bored a way 
under the city walls. In two days, he remembers, 
the plot must culminate, but it may be sooner; no 
time is to be lost. 

They move on. At length the entrance is gained, 
which to them must be an exit. Here they find a 
strong guard, and questions are asked, but Captain 
Tom answers them all. The officer begs them to 
proceed to headquarters, and escorted by several 
soldiers they leave the darkness of the catacombs 
behind, and in the early dawn of that January day 
once more walk the streets of beleaguered Paris. 


CHAPTER IX. 

A LITTLE AFFAIR UNDER THE WALLS OF PARIS. 

General Trochu, in command of the defense of 
Paris, can seldom be found at the house where he 
has made his headquarters during the earlier part 
of the siege, having of late betaken himself to the 
forts on Mont Valerien. Perhaps he has a deep 
reason for this. The story of repulse has become 
so old by this time that doubtless even the patience 
of a Parisian mob must be worn threadbare. Once 
the people of the faubourgs cheered Trochu when- 


A LITTLE AFFAIR UNDER THE WALLS OF PARIS. 75 

ever he appeared, for in their eyes he was the hero 
who was to teach the impudent vandals how not to 
take Paris. Now, months of this business, with 
scanty food that grows less day by day, and a con- 
sciousness that partiality is shown to the rich in 
the distribution— these things put the people into 
an ugly state of mind. 

Paris is getting in fit condition for the horrors of 
the Commune. 

At any hour it may raise its hydra head, and the 
first object of its hatred will be the chief of the 
army. 

Doubtless Trochu knows this, and being a wise 
as well as a brave man, he feels safer at this des- 
perate period among his Franc-tireurs in the forts 
than upon the boulevards. 

On this occasion, however, they are fortunate in 
finding the general at headquarters, where he has 
come to secure certain papers. 

The great man looks wearied, but greets Captain 
Tom with warmth; he has great respect for the 
American who proves his friendship for France at 
the peril of his life. 

An audience is granted, and the story, so far as it 
relates to matters in which General Trochu can 
have an interest, is soon told. 

A fierce light shows upon the governor’s face. 

If it is impossible to dislodge the determined enemy 
who has settled down around the gay capital, he can 
at least find some satisfaction in dealing him an oc- 
casional severe blow. A success once in a while will 
keep up the spirits of the people and make them 
have confidence in him. 

For months the daily talk has been of an army 
from the provinces that would come up in the rear 


76 A LITTLE AFFAIR UNDER TEE WALLS OF PARIS . 


of the German forces, give them a dreadful blow, 
and raise the siege, but since the bombardment be- 
gan this hope has dwindled away to a mere nothing. 

The general thanks Captain Tom in the extrava- 
gant style that is so natural to a Frenchman, and 
reveals enough of his hastily formed plans to give 
him an idea as to what he means to do. 

Then the two culprits are taken to prison, from 
which they will come out later and see a file of sol- 
diers accompanying them to the Bois de Boulogne, 
or somewhere outside the city gates — a few brief or- 
ders, a double roll of musketry, and Paris will be 
rid of two men who have long been secret foes. 

Captain Tom seeks rest. 

The bombardment about ceases with the coming 
of morning, but in the evening the iron spheres will 
again begin to fall upon the half of the beleaguered 
city nearer Chatillon, to be kept up with great reg- 
ularity all night long. 

At a certain hour Captain Tom awakes and re- 
freshes himself with cold water, of which, thank 
Heaven, these greedy Germans have not yet been 
able to cut off the supply. 

Then he proceeds to a restaurant near by, and par- 
takes of a frugal meal. Few persons can afford to 
patronize such places now, and many of the eating 
houses have closed, but along the Champs Elysees 
there are a number that still keep open and make a 
brave show with a scanty larder and slender pat- 
ronage. 

When he has satisfied the inner man as thor- 
oughly as can be done in a city which has been con- 
suming itself for the last few months, Captain Tom 
hails a fiacre. Few of these are to be seen on the 
streets ; the reason is very plain, since horses are in 


A LITTLE AFFAIR UNDER THE WALLS OF PARIS. 77 

demand for food. Funerals even, of the rich, are 
limited to one vehicle. 

Thus he picks up Mickey McCray at a certain 
place, and together they seek the mouth of the cata- 
combs. 

All is quiet here, but ever and anon a company of 
Franc-tireurs, or one perhaps belonging to the Na- 
tional Guard, passes down the steps. 

Having the pass-word, our two friends find no diffi- 
culty in entering, and when they reach a certain 
point witness the preparations that have been made 
to repulse this shrewd game on the part of the Ger- 
mans. 

Trochu is not personally present, but he has his 
representative in a smart young officer. Soldiers 
are massed in waiting and eager to pounce upon the 
luckless engineers who have done such wonderful 
work. 

The utmost silence is imposed. They can hear 
the throbbing blows that indicate the near approach 
of the enemy. At any time now it may be expected 
that the German engineers will break through the 
wall and enter the cavern. 

An order passes along. All lights are put out, and 
the French soldiers wait like restless hounds held 
in the leash while the game is near. 

It is not for long. The indomitable power of per- 
severance that has carried the Germans thus far in 
their tunneling operation brings about the final act 
in the drama. 

There is a sudden burst of light and a rattling 
sound, as of fragments of stone falling. Then low 
exclamations of delight in the deep voices of Ger- 
mans are heard. 

Not a man among the French soldiers moves or 


78 A LITTLE AFFAIR UNDER THE WALLS OF PARIS. 

makes a single sound. If they were formed of the 
solid rock they could not remain more silent. 

Captain Tom watches the thin wall being battered 
down ; he sees a dozen Germans in the glare of their 
lanterns ; but these men do not as yet suspect their 
danger. Just back of them can be noticed a com- 
pany of Uhlans, brought into this place for an emer- 
gency, as they are esteemed the most determined 
fighters among the host that surrounds Paris. 

It is a strange spectacle, especially when one con- 
siders that this thing actually occurs at a point in- 
side the walls of the French metropolis. 

Captain Tom is close beside the officer who has 
been left in charge. He knows that the other is a 
dashing soldier, and has his orders, hence this 
silence does not surprise the American. 

Colonel Duprez awaits the moment when the Ger- 
man engineers have knocked away enough of the 
wall to widen the breach and allow the passage of 
several men at the same time. 

When this has been done he gives the signal — it is 
one single word : 

“ Now !” 

The Franc-tireurs, those tigers of the battle, who 
know not the meaning of the word fear, leap for- 
ward, as if shot from a cannon. 

They spring through the opening ; they are upon 
the astounded engineers before the stolid Germans 
can imagine what is the matter ; some shots are 
fired, then the French soldiers rush down upon their 
inveterate foes, the Uhlans 

Now comes the tug of war. A volley stretches a 
number of the Franc-tireurs low, but over their 
bodies sweep others ; on they rush, coming in con- 
tact with the Uhlans. There is a distinct concus- 


A LITTLE AFFAIR UNDER TEE WALLS OF PARIS, 79 

sion, fierce yells, shots, and all the awful sounds of 
a terrible battle. 

How strange it seems, such a desperate engage- 
ment under ground, and in the catacombs at that, 
living men engaged in deadly work here in the 
tomb of millions. 

The Uhlans fight like brave men, but one by one 
they are cut down. Their leader is a large, hand- 
some man. Captain Tom believes he has seen him 
before somewhere, for surely his face is familiar. 

When all seems hopeless this man is noticed to 
give some signal— perhaps a soldier is waiting back 
in the darkness to carry it on. 

An instant later the Uhlan captain goes down 
with half a dozen Franc-tireurs at his throat. If 
these fierce fighters allow him to live it will only 
be because they respect bravery even in a hated 
enemy. These free fighters take few prisoners in 
battle, for with them it is death. 

“Forward!” shrieks the little colonel, who fancies 
he has a chance ahead to achieve immortal renown. 

If his men can rush along this tunnel, perhaps 
they may create consternation at Chatillon, provid- 
ing it extends so far. Who knows but what it may 
be the turning point in the whole siege, and looking 
back men will speak with pride of the valiant Jules 
Duprez, colonel of France-tireurs, who by a bold 
stroke brought consternation into the ranks of the 
foe, and drove the first nail in the German coffin. 

He leads his men on through the rude tunnel which 
these unlucky German engineers have spent long 
weeks in boring. Lights are carried by many, others 
stumble along as best they can, but all are animated 
by the one mad desire to burst into the enemy’s 
works and strike a blow that must create conster- 


89 .4 LITTLE AFFAIR UNDER THE WALLS OF PARIS. 

nation, perhaps by spiking the great Krupp siege- 
guns that nightly send their iron hail into the de- 
voted city. 

They make fine progress, and each soldier’s heart 
burns with the desire to create havoc in the midst 
of the foe. 

Without any warning the lights are all suddenly 
extinguished, and each man is thrown down by a 
strange concussion of air — a great wave seems to 
rush through the tunnel, accompanied by a frightful 
roaring sound. It is as if the earth were groaning. 

Can it be one of those terrible convulsions of 
nature— an earthquake. ? 

All is still, then the voice of the little colonel is 
heard in the loud command: 

“ Lights !” 

Men pick themselves up, some more or less bruised 
by the fall; matches are produced, and one after 
another the lanterns, such as remain whole, are 
once more made illuminating agents. 

The colonel has already guessed the truth, for his 
keen sense of smell detects burned powder in the 
tunnel. 

“Comrades, we have lost the game; they have 
exploded a mine— our passage is blocked. Neverthe- 
less, we will go on and ascertain the worst. For- 
ward !” 

It is just as he supposed — an explosion has taken 
place, and the tunnel rendered a ruin. Soon their 
passage is blocked by masses of rocks ; the powder 
smoke almost stifles them. There is nothing for it 
but to turn back. They are terribly disappointed, 
but at any rate break even with their German foes 
— indeed, the advantage would appear to be on their 
side, since they have not only frustrated the crafty 


A L1T1LE AFFAIR UNDER THE WALLS OF PARIS . 81 

design of the enemy, but taken prisoner his engi- 
neers and those of the Uhlans left alive. 

Captain Tom is with them, desiring to witness 
and participate in the affair. He was thrown down 
with the rest, but has received no injury. 

When he comes out of the catacombs he has an 
idea in his head, which he desires to put into prac- 
tice. His first inquiry is for the Uhlan captain— is 
he dead or alive? 

To his satisfaction, he learns that the brave man 
has not been killed. With other prisoners, he was at 
once dispatched to the prison known as La Roquette. 
Some ambulances had been in waiting, which bore 
the wounded to a hotel, now used as a hospital. As 
one was left over, the captured Prussians, as far as 
possible, were stowed away in it, and driven to 
prison. 

Captain Tom, having made up his mind, is not to 
be diverted from his object by a small thing. He, 
too, will go to the Prison La Roquette, although it 
is quite a distance away. 

Accompanied by the faithful Mickey McCray, he 
saunters along, noting here and there the damage 
already done bv the bombardment. France has lost 
much of her gay humor of late ; upon the faces of 
her citizens can be seen an ominous expression, as 
though they are worried over the outcome. From a 
matter of pride it has now grown to be a serious 
business, and many haggard faces attest this fact. 

Crowds there are upon the streets, for your true 
Parisian is nothiug if not inquisitive, and wherever 
a shell has done damage scores of people gather, to 
point out each detail, secure mementoes, talk of the 
siege, and air their opinions. 

Some keep up bravely. Ladies are even seen walk- 


82 A LITTLE AFFAIR UNDER THE WALLS OF PARIS. 

ing along clad in their seal-skins, viewing the sights 
as calmly as though this were a gala day instead of 
Paris in her death-throes. 

Sad scenes greet the eyes also, and Captain Tom 
inwardly groans when he notes how many small 
coffins are being carried in the direction of the 
cemetery, whither his feet lead him. It is hard on 
the children of Paris; deprived of milk and the 
nourishing food which their systems require, they 
are stricken down bv hundreds. 

Horses being so scarce, as a general thing the lit- 
tle coffins are carried by hand. 

Captain Tom mounts the Boulevard de Charonne, 
and enters the cemetery, desiring to get a view from 
the summit of the hill Charonne, on whose slope the 
famous Pere la Chaise is laid out. 

Beaching the mortuary chapel on the crown, he 
sweeps the scene with interest. Far away can be 
noticed the points where the Prussian batteries are 
posted ; occasionally a wreath of smoke is seen, after 
a certain time comes the distant hollow boom. Per- 
haps Issy or Valerien will reply, but no general en- 
gagement is on. 

A bell is tolling mournfully. Below a number of 
men are digging a long trench, and at the other end 
therein coffins are being piled three deep, to be cov- 
ered by the cold earth. 

Snow lies around. It is the most dismal period of 
the year at ordinary times in Paris. 

Fancy the darkness that has fallen upon the great 
city after months of siege, with her lines gradually 
contracting, and her food supply reaching the 
starvation point. 

The end is not far away, and even gallant French- 
men must realize that there can be but one result, 


THE PRISONER OF LA ROQUETTE. 


83 


and that further resistance against fate is folly. 

Captain Tom borrows a telescope and scans the 
distant hills, looks down upon Belleville, where the 
poor inhabitants are daily put to great tribulations 
in order to keep from freezing, and have cut down 
every tree on the boulevard ; then he calls Mickey, 
and the two walk down the hill to the exit that will 
brine: them to the gloomyP rison of La Roquette, in 
front of which stands the terrible guillotine, soon to 
do its work at the hands of the Commune. 

It seems appropriate that the condemned in La 
Roquette should look from their cells upon the slope 
of the cemetery ; perhaps it has been more through 
design than accident that this building has been 
placed next the grave-yard. At any rate, it saves 
time — prison, guillotine, grave, in quick rotation. 
Captain Tom shrugs his shoulders as he passes the 
instrument of death and mounts the prison steps. 


CHAPTER X. 

THE PRISONER OF LA ROQUETTE. 

The prison looms up before him, its cold walls 
grim and remorseless. Over the door might well be 
written, “He who enters here leaves hope behind,” 
for many have passed in, never to emerge until the 
day of their execution arrives. 

It is now under military rule, as is nearly every- 
thing in poor Paris, even the bake-shops having a 
guard to see that the daily rations of so many 
ounces of black bread are doled out to the hungry 
people as their names are called. 

Captain Tom salutes the guard and demands to 
see the officer in charge. Ordinarily the soldier 


84 


THE PRISONER OF LA ROQUETTE. 


might ignore such a request, but there is something 
about the American that impresses him. Besides, 
he mentions the name of General Trochu, the gov- 
ernor of the city. 

He calls to a companion, who glances at Tom, and 
moves off. In a few minutes an officer makes his 
appearance, with whom the American enters into 
conversation. 

A little note which he carries on his person, signed 
by the general, gives him the entree he desires, and 
the officer begs to know how he can serve the friend 
of Trochu. 

“ There were some Uhlan prisoners brought here 
a short time ago?” says Tom. 

“We have received all sorts and conditions of 
men.” 

“ But these were captured in the catacombs under 
the walls of Paris. I myself had the good fortune to 
learn that German engineers had run a tunnel under 
the walls, meaning to turn the horde of vandals into 
the midst of the city; we surprised them, a number 
were slain, and some prisoners taken.” 

“ Oh, yes, I remember now. The thanks of all Paris 
are due you for your noble work. We might have 
been surprised and the city taken had their plan 
been carried out.” 

“The Uhlans were brought here?” persists the 
Yankee soldier of fortune, paying little attention to 
the officer’s suave flattery. 

“That is so, monsieur.” 

“The officer in charge was a large, fine-looking 
man— am I right?” 

“His name is Captain Johann Strauss. I had met 
him before.” 

“Indeed!” Captain Tom believes he is in a way to 


THE PRISONER OF LA ROQUETTR 


85 


pick up what information he desires before seeking 
the presence of the Prussian, with whom he has 
determined to have an interview. 

“Captain Strauss has been in La Roquette before 
— only last evening he was exchanged. Behold ! 
with the coming of noon he is once more a prisoner !” 

“ Brave men must be scarce in their ranks if they 
have to use one soldier so frequently. It is my 
desire to have a private interview with this Uhlan 
giant. Can I be accommodated?” 

The officer twirls the piece of paper in his hand, 
and shrugs his padded shoulders. Then he twists 
each end of his waxed mustache and bows. 

“With this document we can refuse monsieur 
nothing in the line of reason. Be pleased to follow 
me.” 

With that he leads the way along the corridor. 
Their boot-heels cause a peculiar clanking sound 
in that grim place, where all is so silent. Here and 
there sentries pace up and down, carrying each a 
chassepot at the shoulder. Every soldier salutes the 
officer in turn. 

At length they pause before a cumbersome door. 

“ When monsieur is ready to come out, knock 
twice on the door. You hear, guard?” 

The soldier salutes. 

The heavy door is thrown open. Captain Tom 
strides in, and from the click at his back he knows 
he is locked in the cell. 

Coming from the glare of the sun upon the snow 
without, his eyes are at first unable to distinguish 
anything save the fact that the cell is of good size 
and lighted by a single small window, across which 
run iron bars. 

Gradually his eyes grow accustomed to th§ semh 


86 THE PRISONER OF LA ROQUETTE. 

gloom, and he discovers the tall form of the pris- 
oner standing there surveying him. 

The Prussian looks like a caged tiger. He has 
been overcome and made a prisoner when he en- 
deavored to fight to the death. His appearance is 
that of a desperate man, who cares little what 
becomes of him. 

Captain Tom, while he stands there, makes up his 
mind that something besides threats will be neces- 
sary in order to make this man talk if he takes a 
notion to remain silent. 

“I beg your pardon,” he says, in excellent Ger- 
man, “but the sunlight on the snow has almost 
blinded me. You will excuse my rudeness.” 

The other shows surprise, and when he speaks it 
is in a deep, musical voice. 

“You speak German; you are not a Frenchman, 
then?” is what he says. 

“I am a countryman of brave (General Phil Sheri- 
dan, who rides with your leaders to see war as it is 
conducted in Europe.” 

“An American?” 

“Yes. You are Captain Johann Strauss?” 

“Such is my name.” 

“Recently exchanged?” 

“ Even that is so. ” 

“You must like La Roquette, to come back so 
soon, captain.” 

The Uhlan giant laughs good-naturedly now. 

“ It is the fortune of war, that is all. At any rate 
it will only be for a short time.” 

His meaning is significant. Paris is doomed, and 
when King William’s army takes possession the 
doors of every dungeon that holds a Prussian or 
Bavarian prisoner must fly open as if by magic. 


THE PRISONER OF LA ROQUETTE. 


87 


“You passed through the streets when captured 
before. I saw you, the people rushed to stare like 
so many spectators at a show; they marveled at 
your size, for Frenchmen are not generally large. 
I heard many remarks made complimentary to your 
brave manner, and, Captain Johann, I saw you turn 
red with anger, shake loose the hold upon your 
right arm, point your finger to a beautiful lady near 
by, and call out in German, denouncing her for 
proving a traitress to her country.” 

The Uhlan giant is strangely affected ; he presses 
his hand against his head, and his look is one that 
even a brave man might dislike to see upon the 
countenance of an adversary. 

“ That lady was Linda Dubois, a native of Alsace- 
Lorraine, whose mother was a German. I am inter- 
ested in her past. I have come here to exchange 
confidences with you, Johann Strauss. I can tell 
you something that will, I believe, give you much 
joy, but I desire, in return, to have the vail lifted 
from certain mysteries, if you are able to do it.” 

His earnest manner holds the attention of the 
giant, who bends down to look in his face, an ex- 
pression of puzzled wonder marking his own coun- 
tenance. , , „ 

“You love Linda Dubois?” says Tom, boldly. 

The other nods his leonine head eagerly. 

“ I would die for her. I madly adore her. She has 
been the one bright star of my life. When 1 discov- 
ered her in Paris, and realized that she had deserted 
the country of her mother, my heart turned to fire. 
I cared not then how soon death found me out. You 
see my state, perhaps you have come here to mock 
me, but, by heavens, you shall not go hence to tell 
that traitress, who loves you, it may be, that Johann 


88 THE PRISONER OF LA ROQUETTE. 

Strauss writhes because a fickle woman twists his 
heart as. I twist your accursed neck!” 

He advances a step; his demeanor is terrible, and 
Captain Tom knows that in a personal encounter he 
would have his hands full to keep this mad giant 
from fulfilling his threat. 

Still he does not snatch out his revolver ; he has 
not come to that point when he dares not face a 
single unarmed man, no matter whether he be ath- 
lete or giant. 

“ Hear me, Captain Strauss ! If, when I am done 
speaking, yfou still have the desire to twist my neck, 
IT1 give ydu an opportunity to do it, if you can. 
Meanwhile let us be men, and reason together. I 
see no cause why we should be mortal enemies, nay, 
rather our circumstances should make us friends.” 

The giant calms down, though he still glowers 
upon Captain Tom. 

“One thing,” he snarls, “are you her lover?” 

Captain Tom dares not hint that Linda has 
become infatuated with him. It would throw the 
German into a paroxysm of rage, and utterly spoil 
any chance of asking him questions. He can truth- 
fully reply in the negative. 

“I have known the Mam’selle Linda for some 
time. We have been good friends ; I respect her for 
her good qualities, nothing more. She is brave and 
devoted to the cause she loves, as was her 
mother.” 

“Bah! why, then, came she to Pans, where our 
enemies are? Those women who love the Fatherland 
are over the Rhine,” cries the prisoner. 

“Listen, Herr Strauss. That is the secret. Will 
you promise to answer any question I may ask, pro- 
dded that I remove your suspicions?” 


THE PRISONER OF LA ROQUETTE. 89 

“I promise — if it does not concern the army.” 

“ It is a mere personal matter. You shall see. As 
to Linda Dubois, if you went to Bismarck and told 
him she was a traitress, he would laugh in your 
face. Hear me, madman ! That beautiful girl loves 
her country’s cause so well that for many weeks she 
has risked her life in Paris as a secret agent of Yon 
Moltke.” 

“A spy?” gasps Johann Strauss, eagerly. 

“ That is the plain American of it. To my knowl- 
edge, she has sent many messages beyond the walls 
to the besiegers, and when it was no longer possible 
to write Linda has made signals with colored fires. 
On a dark night red, white, and blue balls would 
rise from some lonely hill-side, soldiers rush thither, 
but they would find nothing, for Linda or her agent 
had flown. Thus she has kept the enemy informed 
in one way or another as to how we poor devils 
inside the walls were getting on. I tell you all this, 
Johann Strauss, because you love her.” 

“And you, are you a German in heart?” asked 
the Uhlan, quickly. 

“ That cuts no figure in the game, mynherr. I am, 
as I said, an American. I had influence with the 
governor, and he agreed to spare the life of this 
beautiful woman if she would leave Paris by the 
hour of seven to-night. I have given her this warn- 
ing — if Linda Dubois is found inside the walls after 
the gates close there is no power under heaven that 
can save her from the common fate of a spy.” 

The big Uhlan shivers at this— his heart has had 
new life given to it by the intelligence that the 
woman he loves has not been false to the country 
he fights for, and now this strange American, who 
seems to know so much and yet so little, coolly tells 


90 THE PEIS 0 NEK OF LA ROQUETTK 

him that she must die unless she flies from Paris 
within a few hours. 

“Can I do anything to save her?” he asks, think- 
ing he reads a peculiar look upon the face of his vis- 
itor. 

“Perhaps — I will carry a note to her from you, beg- 
ging her to fly, on condition that you answer my 
questions.” 

“I have already promised.” 

He seizes the paper and pencil Captain Tom hands 
him, and sitting down, hurriedly writes for several 
minutes. Then he hands a note to the American. 

“Kead it if you like, monsieur.” 

“ It is none of my business. I shall endeavor to 
place this in her hands at once. Now, my good 
friend, pay attention.” 

“I am ready.” 

He awaits the questions of the American with the 
same cool indifference that would probably charac- 
terize him should he be holding a point that Was a 
coigne of vantage in a military way, holding it with 
twenty men, and a thousand devils of Franc-tireurs 
rushing up on all sides of the hill to annihilate 
them. 

“You have known Linda a long time?” 

“Since childhood.” 

“And loved her, too?” 

“Always. We roamed the woods together. I 
fought for her as a boy. I am ready to do it as a 
man. Heaven made us for each other, and the man 
who takes her from me— if I live, I will tear his heart 
out at her feet! Linda is mine!” 

“ I simply asked that to make sure that you knew 
her and her f amity well.” 

“I think I can say no one knows them better.” 


THE PRISONER OF LA ROQUETTE. 91 

“ Then you must be aware of the fact that there 
is a mystery connected with Linda Dubois?” 

The big Uhlan is silent. 

Captain Tom knows he has struck the right nail 
on the head, and with quick, strong blows he pro- 
ceeds to drive it home, after the vigorous manner 
that is a part of his nature. 

“ Linda Dubois left her home before you went to 
the front — she was known to be in Berlin, to have 
apartments in a fine house on that famous street 
Unter den Linden, a little more than a stone’s 
throw from the palace. There was much that was 
strange in her actions while there. She came and 
went at all hours, messengers brought her letters ; 
in the light of present revelations we can under- 
stand that she was in communication with Bis- 
marck, preparing to act as his spy in Paris, to feel 
the public pulse here and keep him posted. 

“But this is not all. Linda Dubois was at the 
same time engaged in another business, which more 
intimately concerns me, because it is connected 
with one I love.” 

“Ah! you, too, love?” cries the Uhlan, as if de- 
lighted to discover this fact. 

“Yes, and it is on this account I am here. I desire 
to know the secret of Linda’s power over the young 
girl Myra.” 

Johann Strauss shows signs of uneasiness. 

“Is it Myra you love, monsieur? I am sorry to 
hear it. You have heard of the fatal upas tree — so 
your love may prove fatal to that child.” 


92 


PLAYING WITH FIliK 


CHAPTER XI. 

PLAYING WITH FIRE. 

Captain Tom hears these words with the utmost 
astonishment, and not a little consternation creeps 
into his heart. 

Are they prophetic? Can this Uhlan giant raise 
the vail of the future and see what is about to hap- 
pen? It is absurd. Johann Strauss has the appear- 
ance of an ordinary man, and would never be 
taken for a seer. 

Perhaps he means something else; the American’s 
face turns red. and then pale. 

“You do not intimate, Herr Strauss, that I would 
injure that young girl? I have seen much of the 
world, and been concerned in many strange adven- 
tures, but, as Heaven is my witness, never yet have 
I ” 

“Say no more, monsieur. I am not guilty of 
meaning such an evil thing. You do not know — you 
cannot know ” 

“Then suppose you tell me,” says Tom, coolly. 
“You promised, and this has no bearing on the 
movements of the army, I am sure.” 

Captain Strauss seems puzzled. 

“ I would like to, in order to save Myra, but I 
hardly know whether it would be proper. Still, you 
are a man of honor, I believe, and you will do what 
is right. Yes, I will speak.” 

“Sensible man,” declares the other, stoutly. 

He prepares to hear something strange, and yet 
what comes to him almost takes his breath away, 
from its character. 


PLAYING WITH FIRE. 


93 


“You can understand the feeling that has ani- 
mated all Germany in this war ; the people are in it 
heart and soul— even the women. Societies have 
been organized for ali manner of purposes, for the 
national feeling runs high, but the strangest of all, 
perhaps, was the one which Linda Dubois organized 
while at the house on Unter den Linden. 

“This secret band was composed of young women 
— unmarried women, anyway. They took upon 
themselves a binding vow never to marry any one 
but a German. 

“ So earnest were they in this that a terrible pun- 
ishment was to be visited upon the head of any one 
who was luckless enough to wed a man who be- 
longed not to the Fatherland. 

“ Now, you understand my meaning. If you win 
poor Myra’s heart you wreck her life, for her fate is 
pitiable, whether you marry her or not. I warn you 
in time, I hope, monsieur.” 

Captain Tom almost gasps for breath ; he has 
never dreamed of such a thing. What could have 
induced a young girl like Myra to enter into such a 
terrible league? What was the consequence of 
marrying a foreigner? Would death ensue? 

He had heard of such leagues among the Social- 
ists of Germany and the Nihilists of Russia, but 
never believed that even in the heat of war times 
sensible women in Germany would bind themselves 
by such a vow. 

“Are you sure of what you say — that Myra is a 
member of this society?” he asks, looking for a loop- 
hole. 

“ I am almost sure of it. Linda once showed me 
the list. She keeps it concealed in that house in Ber- 
lin. I believe it contained Myra’s name. Myra has 


94 


PLAYING WITH FIRE. 


been true-hearted for Germany all the while; her 
cousin, Meta, and some of her friends, took sides 
with France. It was this fact that caused Linda to 
arrange this society. We Germans approve it, of 
all but the terrible penalty ; but then we never be- 
lieved that any true German fraulein would dream 
of taking a husband outside. Make your mind up 
that this is a terrible reality, and if you love blind 
Myra, see her no more.” 

A drowning man grasps at a straw, and so 
Captain Tom sees something to seize hold of in 
the last words of the German. 

“You say Myra is blind?” he asks, his eyes glued 
upon the other’s face. 

“Certainly, you knew that?” 

The American is doubly mystified. He remem- 
bers what the girl cried out on the street when the 
mob threatened, and yet Captain Tom is ready to 
swear that he has looked into as bright a pair of 
eyes as ever a girl played havoc with among the 
hearts of men. He knows not what to say, he feels 
as if his breath were taken away. 

Can Johann Strauss help him? He does not fancy 
any man reading the actual pain in his heart, so he 
crushes the feeling, and tries to penetrate no deeper 
into the mystery. 

Later on he calls himself a fool for not having 
questioned the Uhlan more closely when he had the 
opportunity. 

He must give Myra up, but the thought causes 
him a pang. Who would dream that a man who had 
seen so much of the world as this soldier of fortune 
must finally fall in love with a little Alsatian girl, 
so that his heart receives a severe wrench when for- 
tune snatches her away from him. 


PLAYING WITH FIRE. 


95 


He pursues the subject a little further with respect 
to this singular band or society, and learns several 
interesting things that make him wish he could be 
in Berlin just then to ease his mind, and read that 
fatal list. 

Then he says good-by to Johann Strauss. 

“We may meet again; who can tell the fortunes 
of war? I shall deliver your note, and endeavor to 
influence Linda.” 

These are his last words. He shakes hands with 
the prisoner, and as his eye takes in the Uhlan 
giant’s magnificent form, Captain Tom mentally 
figures on what chances he may have, if at some 
future time fate decress that they two shall struggle 
for the mastery. 

A double knock on the door brings the guard. 
Captain Tom leaves the cell in a more thoughtful 
mood than when he entered it ; and his heart feels 
sore over what he has heard. 

Myra is lost to him, then. He has seen many a 
beautiful flower in his day that only needed the 
stretching out of a hand to gather, but he refrained ; 
now that he would secure this little wild rose, it is 
plucked from his grasp. 

He does not quite despair, for Captain Tom has 
more than once fought with fate, and beaten his 
adversary in the game. The future may develop 
some gleam of hope. 

Mickey McCray is found waiting in the corridor, 
and silently follows the captain. He is an anomaly 
of an Irishman, for he knows when to keep his 
mouth shut. 

Try as he will, Tom cannot keep his thoughts off 
the subject that is uppermost in his mind. 

« I could swear that her eyes were the brightest I 


96 


PLAYING WITH FIRE. 


ever saw, and yet, when she looked up at me in the 
street — my God ! she was blind ! What can I think 
— are there two Myras? If so, am I in love with 
My^a who can see or the one who is blind?” 

Reflection only causes deeper perplexity, and at 
last, realizing the hopeless condition in which his 
love affairs are entangled, he makes a violent effort, 
and for the time being dismisses the subject. 

Other things demand his attention, for Captain 
Tom has become mixed up in several little affairs of 
moment, in his earnestness to serve the French 
government. 

falling Mickey to him, he confides an errand to 
his care, and presently the faithful Irishman is can- 
tering down the Champs Elysees. 

Then the American calls to the owner of a fiacre 
near by ; the man asks a fabulous sum for the use 
of his vehicle, as horses are scarce in a city where 
the people are living upon horseflesh. Making a 
bargain, Captain Tom is soon flying along in the 
direction of the Latin Quartier. 

He is cheered several times on the road thither, 
as excitable individuals, noting his speed, fancy 
that he must be a Government messenger carrying 
important dispatches. The inflammable populace is 
always looking for the “ grand movement” that 
never comes. 

Ruins meet the eye here and there ; really, those 
German gunners have got the range fairly well, and 
are doing much damage. A few weeks of this steady 
work will be apt to lay one half of Paris in ruins, 
and it is certain that these stolid Prussians will keep 
up this everlasting hammering, now that they have 
begun, until something gives way. Ah! the convent 
at last. 


PL A YIN Q WITH FIRE. 


97 


He seeks the entrance. The lay sister admits him, 
and again he awaits the coming of Linda in the 
same room where his strange adventure of the pre- 
ceding night took place. 

Captain Tom manages to seat himself in a dark- 
ened corner ; the thick walls of the building, with 
its numerous angles, keep much light from entering 
through the peculiar windows. 

Presently there is that flutter of a dress again, 
and some one enters. It is the lovely Alsatian. 
Linda looks around her in a manner that betrays 
some nervousness, for she cannot imagine who her 
visitor may be ; perhaps the secret agent sent by 
the government to make an arrest, for they may 
have repented their respite. 

Now she discovers the dark figure of a man; he 
advances toward her. The Alsatian is thrilled to 
hear him speak, her limbs almost give way beneath 
her weight. 

“Mam’selle Linda, I greet you.” 

She finds her voice, but it is only to gasp : 

“Captain Tom!” 

“ Oui f mam’selle, it is, indeed, no other. Rest 
assured that I do not entertain hard feelings toward 
the fair Linda for the part she took in my abduction 
last night.” 

“You— know— monsieur?” she cries. 

“ I know all. When you entered the lists against 
me, lady, you had for an antagonist one who has 
seen too much of the world to be easily hoodwinked. 
I did not drink the drugged wine.” 

“But— I saw you.” 

“That was an optical delusion. When you went 
for the nutmeg my good angel warned me, and I 


98 


PLAYING WITH FIRE. 


gave the contents of the amber glass to the ashes. 
After that I filled up again.” 

“Ha! that would account for the bottle being 
nearly empty. I was amazed ; now I see. But, Mon- 
sieur Tom, you lay like one dead.” 

“Easily done.” 

“You allowed yourself to be carried down into the 
catacombs.” 

“I rather enjoyed it, especially the part where 
you stood between my life and the weapon of the 
general. He is a fine rascal, that man, and I am 
sorry that 1 shall never have the opportunity to 
meet him in open battle. I would enjoy running him 
through with a sword some early morning in the 
Bois de Boulogne.” 

“I detest him myself, monsieur,” she says, en- 
deavoring to become calm, for Tom's appearance 
has caused her much mental excitement and wild 
speculation, “but you may have the pleasure you 
speak of some day — why not?” 

The American smiles in a peculiar way. 

“Thanks, but I would hardly care to cross the 
River St} r x to engage in a sword combat with a dis- 
embodied spirit.” 

His meaning breaks upon her with the sudden 
rush of a hurricane. 

“Mon Dieu! the general is not dead! You have 
not killed him, Captain Tom?” 

A clock in the corner strikes the hour. Tom 
counts the strokes aloud. 

“Five,” he says, quietly. “Mam’selle, in twenty 
minutes more the sun will set behind the western 
hills. As his last border vanishes from the view a 
gun will sound— we hear the boom of cannon all 
day and all night, but the sunset gun is never for- 


PLAYING WITH FIRE. 


99 


gotten. Hardly will the echoes have died away than 
under the walls of Valerien a line of soldiers look 
along their rifles, an officer gives the word, a volley 
rings out, and four condemned men drop back into 
the rough coffins that await them.” 

A cry of horror breaks from her, her face is 
ashy pale now, and the blood seems to have also 
forsaken her lips. 

She puts out her hand and plucks at the sleeve of 
the man who tells her this terrible thing, plucks at 
it as though she doubted her senses, and wished to 
be sure of his presence. 

“These four men, who are they?” 

How changed her voice is — one would almost 
think it was a man speaking, such is the hoarseness 
that characterizes her tones. 

“The general who would betray Paris into the 
hands of her foes, and his three comrades. Mam’- 
selle Linda, you have played with fire — it is danger- 
ous. This time you have escaped, but those who 
were with you ” 

He ends the sentence with a shrug of his shoul- 
ders that is more suggestive than words. 

Linda Dubois feels as though a cold hand has been 
placed upon her heart. One moment she is like a 
woman of ice, the next a creature of fire. 

Captain Tom had better be upon his guard, for 
such a tornado of passion sweeps over her at the 
thought of ruined plans and hopes that she may 
forget the fact of being desperately in love with this 
bold American, and only remember him as the 
author of her woes. 

“You are the cause of this disaster; you, Captain 
Tom. If I were a man ” 

“ You would be keeping them company, mam’selle. 


100 


PLAYING WITH FIRE. 


Thank your stars, then, that you are a woman, and 
that I admire you. But let us talk of yourself ; two 
hours remain, and the gates of Paris will close. You 
know the penalty of remaining within the walls?” 

“Yes, I know; their fate will be mine. In such a 
case my sex will not save me,” she says, moodily, 
for her heart is set on remaining in Paris until the 
soldiers of Von Moltke enter, and she shall see the 
German flag waving in triumph over the proud city 
of the Gauls. 

“Here is something for you.” 

She takes the paper, and when her eyes drink in 
its contents, after pressing close to the poor light 
that comes in at the window, the woman shows 
signs of emotion. 

“ What ! J ohann a prisoner again ! Only last even- 
ing I was secretly instrumental in bringing about 
his exchange. How does this happen?” 

Evidently she has not heard of the affair in the 
catacombs under the walls of Paris, so Captain Tom 
tells her as briefly as possible, not forgetting to 
speak of the Uhlan captain’s bravery, for he would 
like to make this girl love his rival, since he cannot 
himself reciprocate her affection, which he consid- 
ers dangerous to his peace of mind. 

“Ah! yes, Johann is brave, else he would never 
have had my regard. I adore brave men, monsieur, 
no matter under what flag they fight. For a coward 
I have contempt. It is to you, then, the failure of 
this wonderful plan is due. Ah, Captain Tom, I 
know one man who would give much to make you 
feel the pressure of his iron hand, that is Bismarck. 
You have done more to ruin the plans of the Ger- 
man forces than any living soul in Paris. A while 
ago you said it was fortunate I was a woman. Now 


P LAYING WITH FIRE. 


101 


it is Linda Dubois who declares that it is a lucky 
thing you are Captain Tom, else would I be strongly 
tempted to save Yon Moltke much trouble by ending 
your life here and now.” 

The Alsatian has a pistol in her hand, and 
although Tom seems perfectly cool and collected he 
keeps a keen eye upon the weapon, since he does 
not wish to shuffle off this mortal coil, even at the 
hands of such a lovely creature. 

“You will not attempt such a thing, Mam’selle 
Linda. I should very much dislike to use violence, 
but, indeed, unless you put away that little play- 
thing I shall feel under the necessity of taking it 
from you, and in the struggle your beautiful white 
hands might be scratched. Come, be a good girl ; 
keep that for your enemy, not for one who has 
proved his friendship as I have done.” 

His words soothe her ; at least she obeys, although 
with a bitter laugh. 

“You see your word is law, Captain Tom. So you 
still claim to be my friend; you do not hate me 
since you have learned that I am a German spy?” 

“ Heaven forbid ! I respect a brave woman, and I 
admire your daring, even while I deplore the fact 
that one so lovely should put herself in danger of 
such a cruel death.” 

“ My beauty, as you call it, belongs to my coun- 
try. If I could coin my blood into success for Ger- 
man arms, gladly would the sacrifice be made. That 
is what German girls are made of.” 

“ Heavens ! I don’t wonder your cause has pros- 
pered, then. Your soldiers would not dare face their 
wives and sweethearts with defeat. Such enthusi- 
asm would conquer the world. They have not known 


102 MONSIEUR MICKEY “STRIKES ILEr 

it in France since Bonaparte’s time. But time 
presses — you will leave Paris?” 

“Yes, I wish to live,” she replies. 

“You will tell me how you go?” 

“It matters not to you, Monsieur Tom.” 

“We may meet again?” 

Her face is close to his, he notes the almost hag- 
gard look upon it, but lays it to the serious nature 
of her position, not realizing the depth of this sin- 
gular woman’s passion for him. 

“Heaven willing— yes.” 

“Then farewell.” 

He presses her hand gallantly to his lips, and turns 
and leaves her, having said no word of the mystery 
hanging over Myra, or betrayed his secret. 


* CHAPTER XII. 

MONSIEUR MICKEY “STRIKES ILE. ” 

When the sunset gun sounds the doom of the four 
men under the walls of the fort on Mont Yalerien it 
must not be supposed that Paris is rid of every spy 
or manipulator of an intrigue; far from it. Within 
the walls are scores and even hundreds who secretly 
sympathize with the German cause. Others there 
are who hate all forms of government, and long for 
the hour to come when blood shall flow upon each 
street as in the days of Robespierre and the Revolu- 
tion. 

The recognized meeting-place of these malcon- 
tents and conspirators has been a cafe chantant 
known to every one about Paris. 

Here, at the Cafe Madrid, the wildest schemes 
ever concocted by human brains are aired— mys- 


MONSIEUR MICKEY “ STRIKES ILE.' 


103 


terious meetings have been held, and to all appear- 
ances the place is a hot-bed of treason. 

Why has not the government stepped in and put 
a stop to it? The authorities* laugh at such men, 
feeling that their utterances are only like the foam 
on a mug of Bavarian beer. 

Perhaps they keep a secret agent present to pick 
up stray crumbs that fall from the table. He may 
be the man who vaunts the loudest — who knows? 
These detectives of the prefect are shrewd fellows, 
as a general rule. 

When Monsieur Tom leaves the convent and 
Linda Dubois he heads in the direction of the cafe 
chantant. Why he does this might be explained by 
a note that lies in his pocket, and which he has 
read over half a dozen times, until each word is 
burned upon his brain. 

The lights have already sprung up here and there, 
but Paris is poorly illuminated now, save when 
some fire blazes forth. 

In his walk Captain Tom meets several persons of 
importance. One quiet-looking man, whom he 
passes with a salutation, is the person probably 
more feared than any other in Paris— the head of 
the police machinery, the prefect. 

Crowds line the sidewalks ; there is little else for 
the citizens to do nowadays but gather and talk 
over the situation, for trade is stagnant. They feel 
that they are living over a volcano, and are more in 
dread of the canaille than the Germans— the mob 
that mutters always near by, and which, when it 
once breaks loose, will murder and burn, and plun- 
der friend and foe alike. 

Ho wonder that the citizens look anxious. Many 
of them hope the surrender may occur before it is 


104 MONSIEUR MICKEY “ STRIKES 1LE.” 

too late ; others keep on expecting that the French 
nation will strike the Germans a blow that must 
cause them to rush back over the Rhine faster than 
they came— hopes that are doomed never to be real- 
ized, because there is now no “little corporal” to 
turn out a hero Napoleon. 

Sedan has killed the ardor of the provinces, and 
they are resolved to let Paris, which brought about 
this war, look out for herself. 

Sauntering along, Captain Tom sights the Cafe 
Madrid at last. His thoughts turn in another quar- 
ter, and he wonders where Mickey can be. 

There is an old proverb among the Spaniards to 
the effect that if one speaks of the evil one he will 
appear — modernized, we have it, “ Speak of an 
angel, and you hear its wings.” 

So Captain Tom has hardly conceived the idea 
that he has a man hanging out somewhere in this 
vicinity than he becomes aware of the fact that 
Mickey is pretty much on hand. 

Loud voices are wafted to his ears. There is a 
vigorous dispute of some sort occurring just in front 
of the particular cafe chant ant toward which the 
American is strolling. 

He hears the Irishman’s well-remembered voice 
raised in anger ; evidently Mickey has dropped into 
a street brawl of some sort. Captain Tom increases 
his pace as though he experiences some interest in 
the matter. His face does not express any feeling 
one way or another, and it would be impossible to 
tell from his looks the state of his mind. 

Never has Paris been more ready to respond to 
any street sensation— a dog-fight will gather such a 
crowd that a boulevard may be blocked. They have 
been shut in so long, poor devils, with such scant 


MONSIEUR MICKEY “STRIKES ILE.' 


105 


amusement, that any incident is seized upon to 
divert their minds. 

Already a score of men— yes, and women, too— 
surround the spot whence the voices rise, and 
dozens more gravitate thither from all directions ; 
heads are thrust out of numerous windows — heads 
innumerable. 

It seems like magic; the scene of the disturbance 
is in one minute the cynosure of a thousand eyes, 
and far up and down the street the excitement 
extends, like the waves that mark the dropping of 
a stone into a large pool of still water. 

In ten seconds Captain Tom pushes his form 
among the crowd. A man here and there looks 
angrily up at him, but gives way, as though there 
might be something about the American’s manner 
that marks him one born to command. 

Now he sees the two who are the center of such 
attraction. The lights from the Cafe Madrid shine 
upon them, and their faces at least are rendered 
conspicuous. 

Of course it is Mickey ; he dances around like a 
bantam rooster, his fists clenched, and alternately 
thrust under the nose of ihe taller man, with whom 
he seems at loggerheads. 

One glance Captain Tom takes, and he grinds his 
teeth as he sees the face of Mickey’s antagonist. It 
is a countenance that, once gazed upon, could 
hardly be forgotten. The man is in the dress of a 
captain of cuirassiers, though he has evidently made 
some feeble attempt to disguise this fact. 

“Of all men, that Mickey should quarrel with 
him ! But I have faith in the Irishman ; he is no- 
body’s fool, and who knows what game he may 
have in that long head of his?” 


106 


MONSIEUR MICKEY “STRIKES ILE,' 


These muttered remarks prove Captain Tom to be 
a sensible man, at least, in the fact that he has faith 
in those who work his will. Trust a man who has 
roamed all over the world, from the jungles of India 
to the steppes of Siberia, through desert places, and 
the busy marts of men, to have a keen insight of 
character. This shrewd traveler seldom goes astray 
in his reckoning, and he has put his trust in the 
Irishman a long while back. 

Mickey can talk very little French, but his actions 
are more suggestive than words, and no man who 
finds an Irishman dancing like a hornet around him, 
be he Greek, Russian, Turk, or Hindoo, could mis- 
take his meaning— it signifies war to the knife, and 
plenty of it. 

Nor is Mickey’s tongue idle; he keeps up a jargon 
of sounds, occasionally falling into a French excla- 
mation, as if to add force to his words. 

There can be little doubt that the big French 
cuirassier does not want to fight, for some reason or 
other, and that Mickey is equally determined to 
make him. If words fail, he is ready to try other 
means. 

“Ye bloody frog-eating parleyvoo. Run into a 
gentleman on the pavement, will ye, and nearly 
knock him in the gutter? It’s time one was tachin’ 
ye better manners, and bedad, it’s meself that can 
do it. Take off your coat and defind yourself, ve 
bog-trottin’ omadhaun. Sure I can break every bone 
in your body and not half try. Gintlemen, will ye 
be after looking at me twig his handle as neat as 
you plaze, the cowardly cur.” 

With the last words the agile Mickey suddenly 
dashes his hand into the face of the puzzled cuiras- 
sier. Between finger and thumb he catches that 


THE CAFE MADRID. 


107 


long nose, which he tweaks with a remarkable 
vim. 

That last straw breaks the camePs back. The 
burly Frenchman gives a tremendous roar of rage 
and pain. It is like the outburst from a vicious lion 
when he feels the searing iron pressed against his 
hide. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

THE CAFE MADRID. 

All cauton is thrown to the winds. Five seconds 
ago the cuirassier, for some reason, could not be 
tempted to pick up the gage of battle, and now 
nothing can tempt him to let it lie. He is crazy for 
the Irishman’s life. Nothing but blood can wipe out 
such an insult in the eyes of a Frenchman. 

Now he is at the throat of Mickey McCray, just 
as eager for business as the foreigner, but he meets 
a master at the art of self-defense, and blows are 
rained upon his face with almost the rapidity of a 
trip-hammer’s fall. 

Blinded, the burly cuirassier strikes to the right 
and left. The Irishman dodges, and lands another 
double blow, one fist after the other, in his enemy’s 
face. 

The crowd cheer the brutal sight; such things 
please most of the lookers-on, whose instincts are 
not very refined. While war, with all is horrors, is 
going on around them, why should they not enjoy a 
miniature battle here? 

So they laugh and applaud. It matters little who 
comes out of the engagement a victor so long as the 
scene affords them amusement. Captain Tom says 


108 


THE CAFE MADRID. 


nothing, but watches the Irishman closely as he 
endeavors to discover what the other is up to, for 
he cannot believe Mickey McCray has gone into this 
peculiar business without a deep motive. 

Hammer and tongs they are at it now, but Mickey 
gets in a dozen blows to one that is received. This 
sort of work cannot last long ; already the French- 
man feels his face puffing up, and unless something 
occurs to bring about a change he will be blinded 
by his smaller but exceedingly tough antagonist. 

He changes his tactics. This is in one sense a wise 
move, for the man who keeps on in the old path, no 
matter how misfortunes block the way, seldom gets 
there. 

Perhaps Frenchy may not succeed any better 
under the new method, but it will not be for the 
lack of a trial at any rate. As a boxer the Irishman 
is his master, but at close quarters perhaps superior 
weight may tell. 

So the character of the affair is changed, and the 
two men, clasped in each other’s arms, fling them- 
selves wildly about. The cuirassier has his clothes 
partly torn loose, and presents the appearance of a 
badly demoralized man. 

Down they go upon the street, the Irishman under- 
neath, as though he had given way before the 
heavier man’s weight; but in a twinkling Mickey 
is on top. They roll about like two curs engaged in 
a street fight, while the crowd laughs and applauds. 

The stout cuirassier has had enough ; he no longer 
thinks of glory or revenge. If some one will only 
save him from this fire-eating Irishman he will be a 
happy man. 

He has been badly used. Mickey clutches him at 
all points, and the man bellows lustily in fear. A 


THE CAFE MADRID. 


109 


chance comes ; he scrambles to his feet to fly, and 
with Mickey clinging to his back like the Old Man 
of the Sea upon the shoulders of Sinbad the Sailor, 
rushes through the crowd and down the street. 

Captain Tom leans against the corner of the Cafe 
Madrid and chuckles as he recalls the oddity of the 
scene. The crowd dwindles down to the usual num- 
ber to be found passing along the street at this 
hour. 

Ten minutes elapse. Tom still leans there, as 
though quietly waiting. Then a figure glides up and 
touches his arm. He looks around and sees the hero 
of the late engagement — Mickey McCray, a broad 
smile on his homely phiz. 

“Well?” says the American, only that and no 
more. 

“Struck ile that time, Master Tom,” replies 
Mickey, at the same moment putting a crumpled 
paper in the hand of Captain Tom. 

In Jhe light of this revelation Mickey’s strange 
actions become intelligible to Captain Tom. He sees 
a method in the other’s madness, as it were. 
Although an Irishman may engage in a scrimmage 
just for the love of it, Mickey could not have this 
laid at his door just now. 

The American greedily accepts the crumpled 
paper that is thrust into his hand. People pass by, 
but no one notices them. The bombardment has 
begun, and the crash of Prussian shells can be heard 
among the houses of devoted Paris. 

“You took this from the cuirassier, Mickey?” asks 
the American. 

“Yes, I had him pretty well searched while I 
fought with him, and just got track of the paper 


110 


THE CAFE MADRID. 


when the varmint started to run. He had it secreted 
in a hidden pocket in che rear of his coat.” 

“Do you think he knew you were after it?” pur- 
sues the man who holds the paper. 

“ He was afraid of such a thing, since all the while 
he tried to protect his rear. When the retreat came 
the gossoon was so badly scared that he forgot 
everything else but the idea of making his escape. 

I wouldn’t be surprised if he was runnin’ yet.” 

“You are mistaken, Mickey. By this time the 
cuirassier has discovered the loss- of his paper. I 
doubt not he stands a block or two away, trying to 
screw up courage enough to steal back and find the 
missing document. If it is not on the street, he will 
be sure it has been taken from his person, and of 
course his suspicions will be aroused.” 

“Faith, that’s true for ye, sir.” 

“ Then we’ll arrange it so that the man may dis- 
cover his paper — after I read it.” 

Mickey laughs softly, for he has already guessed 
the nature of the other’s plans, and has a great ven- 
eration for Captain Tom’s shrewdness as well as 
bravery. 

The American lights a cigar — it is not the finest 
in the world, but by this time Paris has been 
reduced in her supplies, so that habitual smokers 
have to put up with an inferior article of tobacco, 
or take to pipes, something Captain Tom abominates. 

When he has his weed in full blast, Mickey 
catches onto the idea — with each puff the fire end 
of his cigar makes a certain illumination, and he is 
thus enabled to read the paper which is held in such 
a position that the glow falls upon it. 

As he crumples the paper again in the shape he 
found it, Captain Tom emits a grunt. 


THE CAFE MADRID. 


Ill 


“ Mickey, take this and place it on the street in 
front of us, where it would not attract the attention 
of the casual passer, but be found by one in search 
of something that is lost.” 

The Irishman comprehends, and obeys. They can 
just see the paper, and await further developments. 
Captain Tom has said little regarding the contents 
of the missive taken from the demoralized cuiras- 
sier. At the time Mickey returns from placing the 
decoy, Captain Tom makes a remark to this effect : 

“ Just as I expected, my boy— the cafe chant ant is 
a spider's web, into which your humble servant, as 
the fly, has been invited to enter — ‘such a charming 
little parlor you never yet did spy.' ” 

He says no more, but simply waits, leaning back 
in the shadows, and taking an occasional dreary 
puff at the wretched weed. 

* Thus minutes glide away. The crowd still saunters 
past, and at this hour the tide seems to be down the 
street — later on it will be reversed. 

Mickey has fallen into a reverie, and perhaps his 
thoughts wander to a certain green isle where the 
evils of war are not being felt, and where damsels 
with blue eyes fascinate the heart. Mickey has a 
horror of a black-eyed sweetheart in Paris, who 
orders him to do her bidding in an imperious way ; 
and, madly in love with her as he is, the honest fel- 
low sometimes sighs for the lassies of old Ire- 
land. 

A hand touches his arm, and he awakens to the 
fact that Captain Tom seeks to draw his attention. 
Looking beyond the pave, he catches sight of some- 
thing crawling along the street. Surely it must be a 
dog. No, it rises now in passing a stream of light 
coming from a window, and the Irishman recog- 


112 


THE CAFE MADRID. 


nizes the peculiar face and disordered dress of his 
late antagonist, the once gallant cuirassier. 

Now he is down again on all-fours, eagerly search- 
ing as he advances, and yet keeping one eye on the 
alert, as though dreading lest that wild terror of an 
Irishman might leap out upon him from some 
obscure nook. No doubt he has had all the fight he 
wants for one night ; better the advent of the Prus- 
sian host than another experience at the hands of 
the human threshing-machine by which his fervor 
for life had been nearly whipped out. 

As he thus slinks and crawls along the street, the 
cuirassier seems to have eyes in all directions. Only 
one thing could tempt this man back to the locality 
where his punishment has been received — he must 
endeavor to find the paper which is missing from 
his person. 

When his eyes fall upon something white, he 
gives utterance to a gurgling cry, and throws him- 
self upon the object with all the joy of one who 
recovers a lost pocket-book. 

They hear his delighted exclamations, and see him 
examining the paper in the ribbon of light that 
emanates from a near-by window ; then he stows it 
away upon his person with trembling eagerness. 

“Speak to me in a loud voice,” whispers Tom, who 
has a streak of humor in his composition. 

Trust an Irishman for grasping the reins of an 
idea with promptness ; Mickey guesses what Captain 
Tom’s scheme is like a flash. 

“Arrah, now, its meself that’d be after enjoying 
another scrap with a parleyvoo frog-eater. If ye 
say that runaway so jar around, just let me know, 
and I’ll take care of him, so I will.” 

Mickey gets no further than this, nor is there any 


THE CAFE MADRID. 


113 


necessity for continuing. When he opens up, in a 
loud voice, the cuirassier is about twenty feet away, 
and at the time Mickey speaks of taking care of 
him, the fellow is probably half-way down the other 
corner. He has given one startled look around him, 
and shot along the street like a man possessed. 

Captain Tom laughs a little; then with an impa- 
tient exclamation he hurls his cigar out into the 
middle of the street. 

“ Hang the tobacco ! It makes me dizzy to smoke 
such stuff. I shall be glad to get out of Paris, just 
to enjoy a good weed again. Strange what a slave 
a man is to his cigar. Really, I quite envy your 
devotion to the little black-brier pipe you smoke, 
Mickey, though I never could come to one.” 

Mickey asks no questions, but looks at his com- 
panion in a quizzical manner, as though the thought 
suggests itself that the captain will find it a difficult 
job to get out of Paris with that close cordon of Ger- 
man troops all around, commanding every avenue 
of escape. 

After a time Captain Tom consults his watch and 
notes the time. 

“Half an hour to wait yet,” he mutters. 

“For what?” says Mickey, quickly, suspecting 
something of the truth from the fact of the other 
remaining so near the Cafe Madrid. 

“Before the fly walks into the spider's web,” 
returns the American, coolly. 

“Do ye mane to enter that devil's hole, cap- 
tain ?” 

“ My duty calls me there — besides, I hope to un- 
ravel a certain mystery that has been giving me 
much trouble of late. Don't worry yourself, Mickey, 
my boy; I am well prepared,” with a deep signifi- 


114 


THE CAFE MADRID. 


cance in his words which even the sharp-witted 
Irishman does not understand. 

“Captain dear, am I to go with ye?” 

It is hard to withstand the wheedling tone, but 
Tom has his plans arranged — besides, Mickey has 
had enough excitement for one hour at least. 

“Not this time, my boy. I’ve something else for 
you to do in connection with our escape from Paris,” 
he says, quietly, but the words give Mickey a 
decided thrill. 

“Escape from Paris, is it, captain dear? Sure it’s 
meself as would welcome the change. Perhaps 
Mickey McCray is fickle, but it’s himself as always 
did prefer blue eyes. Captain”— possessed of a 
sudden alarming fear — “ye wouldn’t be after laving 
me behind in the crowd. That would be the death of 
me entirely.” 

“Never fear, old friend, when I go you shall 
accompany me if there’s a show.” 

“ Bless me sowl, I can’t conceive how ye are going 
to get through the lines.” Then, as an idea comes, 
suggested by the late futile endeavor on the part of 
the German engineers to reach the heart of Paris : 
“Perhaps they have an underground road beyond 
the Prussians.” 

Captain Tom laughs lightly as he tells his com- 
rade not to bother his head over the matter, as all 
will go on without his worrying. 

The hour grows later— soon the time will have 
arrived which Captain Tom has set as the period of 
his entrance to the cafe chantant. 

The note in his pocket says nine, and it is usually 
his rule to keep an appointment to the second. True, 
he has not agreed with any one to be here, but the 
writer of the note that has been slipped into his 


THE CAFE MADRID. 


115 


hand on the boulevard during his afternoon walk 
seems to have assumed that Captain Tom will come. 

He shows no nervousness as the time draws near, 
which is worthy of remark, because the man feels 
that he is about to enter a trap. Truly this Ameri- 
can’s nerves must be made of steel, since nothing 
seems to disturb him. 

Five minutes only remain, when he turns to 
Mickey and gives him a few plain directions with 
regard to the work ahead. A clasp of the hand, 
and Captain Tom is alone. 

A clock in a church steeple near by begins to 
slowly strike the hour. Captain Tom steps out from 
the dark shadow and looks down the street. A mis- 
erable gas-lamp burns feebly about a hundred feet 
away, a mockery of a light, since it only serves to 
show pedestrians how dark it is around them. 

Just at this instant, however, Captain Tom’s 
attention is attracted directly to this lamp. A man 
lounges underneath it, as though watching the 
passers-by. Captain Tom draws out a white hand- 
kerchief — as he holds it up, the man under the 
street-lamp answers the signal by one of like order. 

Convinced that all is well, Captain Tom immedi- 
ately enters the cafe, just as the last stroke of nine 
is sounding. 

The place, as is usual, contains quite a number of 
loungers, some of them peculiar enough in their 
dress and manner to be marked as persons of con- 
sequence. Here many of the wild spirits of Paris 
assemble to rant and air their important opinions. 
The very atmosphere is rank with treason, and the 
fate of Paris has been decided dozens of times each 
day by wiseacres who know more than the brave 
generals at the head of the army of invasion. 


116 


THE CAFE MADRID. 


Captain Tom walks among these men without 
paying any attention to them. They are the barking 
dogs that do not bite. Somewhere about the prem- 
ises will be found the more dangerous creatures. 

The Cafe Madrid is one of the few restaurants 
that remain open— lack of supplies has caused the 
temporary closing of most of the cafes that were 
wont to be such an attraction on the Champs Ely- 
sees and other thoroughfares. 

Even the Madrid has been shorn of its glory to a 
great extent. True, crowds are there day and night, 
but crowds without the means to pay the enormous 
price demanded for ordinary fare — crowds that 
accept their daily rations from the hands of the 
authorities, and take their dessert in upbraiding the 
army of defense, the governor, and every one con- 
cerned in holding Paris. 

Captain Tom glances unconcernedly around, and 
then walks up to the proprietor, with whom he has 
a short conversation. The latter has evidently been 
expecting him ; at any rate, his face lights up with 
an eager expression as soon as he sights the Ameri- 
can. With a suave manner, he shows Captain Tom 
a door in the corner. 

“ Pass through that, monsieur ; then you will find 
a hall, and at the end a door. Open this without 
fear— the rest I leave to yourself. You have judg- 
ment discretion, good bearing. You will be repaid 
for your trouble,” as the American slips some gold 
coins in his hand. 

Captain Tom opens the door, passes beyond the 
portal, and closes it behind him. He is now in the 
hall mentioned by mine host. A light burns dimly, 
and he can see that all is just as the other has said. 

He pauses a minute— it is to collect his thoughts 


THE CAFE MADRID. 


117 

and form a definite plan of action. It is a strange 
motive that brings Captain Tom to this den of the 
communists, and those who intrigue for the down- 
fall of Paris — peculiar, because love is at the bottom 
of it. 

The note resting in his pocket is signed by a name 
with which to conjure — Myra. He believes in it, and 
yet knows there is a trap somewhere for his unwary 
feet. Myra has saved him once — will she conspire 
at his ruin now? 

Used to depending upon himself in all emergen- 
cies, this man is quick to act should a sudden change 
be necessary in his plans. He stands there irresolute 
for a brief time, and then, striding forward, places 
his hand upon the knob of the door. 

A voice reaches his ear ; since he has shut out the 
confusion of tongues ever present in the cafe, he 
can hear better, and this sound undoubtedly pro- 
ceeds from beyond. The voice is that of a female, 
and it excites a singular emotion in the breast of 
the American. French are the words that are 
spoken ; but love is the same in every language he 
hears; and his heart is quickened. Then, again, an 
awful fear strikes him, as he remembers that he 
has come here to enter a trap. If Myra is the lure, 
can she love him? 

His thoughts go back to the swarthy crowd of 
low-browed men in the outer room of the cafe. Are 
they to rush in upon him at a certain signal, and 
avenge the death of the four spies? 

Captain Tom knows the plot is deeper than that, 
though his death is the main object of it all, which 
fact proves the man’s wonderful nerve in volun- 
tarily seeking danger. It is like walking into the 
lion’s den for a man of his class to keep an ap- 


118 “MOCK ME NOT, MONSIEUR TOM; I AM BLIND T 

pointment at night at the notorious Cafe Madrid. 

Captain Tom has heard that wonderful voice 
breathe his name, coupled with endearing words. 
He stills the riot in his heart, and is once more the 
man of ice. Then only he turns the knob of the door 
and enters. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

“MOCK ME NOT, MONSIEUR TOM; I AM BLIND!” 

He sees a small apartment, with a single light 
burning ; it has but one occupant, and that is Myra. 
She sits at a table, dressed for the street, and with 
her face covered by a vail ; but Captain Tom cannot 
mistake that exquisite figure— his heart would tell 
him the truth even though his eyes, failed him. 

She has started at the opening of the door, and 
her head is poised. He hastens to advance into the 
room with mingled emotions — joy at seeing the 
object of his regard, and sorrow because he has 
reason to believe she has entered into a league with 
his enemies. 

Captain Tom speaks her name, and she holds out 
a hand, which he clasps. 

“You are punctual, monsieur,” she breathes. 

“ That is a part of my business in life ; but, made- 
moiselle, you understand I am surprised at this place 
of meeting.” 

“Of course— I expected it. You must forgive me. 
Captain Tom, but in these times there are some of 
us who have no homes. The convent no longer 
dares offer a shelter. I have friends at the Cafe 
Madrid, so I come hither. What does it matter?— it 


‘‘MOCK ME NOT, MONSIEUR TOM ; I AM BLIND!" 119 

will not be for long,” with a bitter ring in her voice. 

“You would reproach me, mademoiselle?” says 
the other, quickly. 

“ I do not understand— you have caused the down- 
fall of Yon Moltke’s best spies, yet you saved me, 
whom you knew to be a sympathizer of the Ger- 
mans, from the mob led by that detestable Fran- 
cois, who is, thank Heaven, no more.” 

Captain Tom comes very near declaring that his 
motive in the one case was a strange power, some- 
times known as love; but his discretion stills his 
tongue, as he realizes that it would be folly to give 
way to such emotions now. Besides, he imagines 
that they are not as much alone as a casual glance 
would seem to indicate. 

There is a closet in the room, also some hanging 
curtains that appear to bulge more than ordinary 
drapery usually does. He believes that eavesdrop- 
pers are concealed in these places, only waiting for 
a signal to show themselves. 

The most cruel blow of all is that this signal is 
undoubtedly to be given by Myra, who has lured 
him there to his ruin. 

Was ever a lover in a worse predicament? 

He protests that never yet has he warred on 
women — that only for his intervention Linda 
Dubois must have shared the fate of the others. 

“ Tell me — you should know, Myra — has she gone 
from Paris, that wonderful woman, or does she 
remain in hiding, determined to see the end which 
must surely come?” 

“ It was you who warned her, therefore I can see 
no harm in speaking. Linda has gone— by this time 
she is beyond the German lines. She has seen Bis- 
marck, Yon Moltke, Frederick, and is heading for 


120 “MOCK ME NOT, MONSIEUR TOM ; l AM BLIND!” 

Berlin, bent upon a mission, as fast as horse or rail- 
way can take her.” 

He thinks there is something of triumph in her 
voice, and feels a vague uneasiness, as though that 
secret mission concerns him. As yet he sees no 
reason why he should suspect such a thing, and 
still there is some sort of whisper in his heart that 
connects him with it. 

He remembers what Johann Strauss has said 
about the house on Unter den Linden — Linda 
Dubois keeps strange things there— the list of those 
who belong to that dreadful society is there, and 
Myra’s name among the rest. 

Why does she fly to Berlin? He would give much 
to know, and yet, if plainly asked, it is hardly 
probable that he could explain his reasons. Can 
Myra tell— will she give him satisfaction? He is 
mystified — bewildered. This girl warned him of the 
danger in the wine ; she mourned over him while 
he lay apparently senseless in the chair — still later 
she stood between him and the murderous Alsatian, 
Francois. He can hear her voice ringing in his ears 
yet as she beseeches him to awaken and fight for 
his life. Now this same girl has lured him to the 
cafe chantant — lured him to ruin, as did the sirens 
of old, after the sailors had safely passed the terrors 
of Scylla and Charybdis. 

Captain Tom is apt to lose all faith in woman- 
kind, unless he finds a solution to this mystery. At 
any rate, he will ask Myra one question — she can 
do no more than refuse him. 

“This mission of Mademoiselle Dubois— is it a 
government one, or does it concern only her private 
fortunes?” he queries, showing little anxiety, 
^although his heart beats strangely fast. 


“MOCK ME NOT, MOMIEUB TOM; I AM BLIND!” 121 

She does not reply at once, but it is evident that 
she reads him better than he suspects, and with a 
woman’s cruelty tantalizes him by holding her 
peace. 

“You do not answer. Surely, that would not 
betray her secrets. I am interested in Linda — she 
owes her life to me, in one sense. You can tell me, 
as it will go no further. Come, Mademoiselle Myra, 
why this silence?” 

She gives a low laugh, that Captain Tom does not 
like to hear from the lips of the woman he loves, for 
it tells of a spirit that is far from the perfection he 
adores — it seems to cut him like a knife, and he 
shivers. 

“Probably there is no need, monsieur; I was sim- 
ply reflecting. Yes, I may tell you alone that Linda 
Dubois, speeding for Berlin as fast as post and rail- 
way can take her, goes upon a purely personal mis- 
sion — love, hate; yes, all the human passions are 
bound up in it; and you, Monsieur Tom ” 

“Have I an interest in it?” he demands. 

“Such is my impression. But you forget you 
address a lady, that you clutch her wrist as you 
would the collar of a hound.” 

“Pardon, a thousand pardons,” stammered Tom, 
becoming conscious that in his eagerness he has 
overstepped the lines that always mark the conduct 
of a gentleman. 

Her words are of such a peculiar nature that the 
soldier of fortune can well be excused for feeling 
his coolness in a measure desert him. What would 
he not give for some key by means of which this 
mystery might be explained? Is it useless endeav- 
oring to seek an answer from the same source 
whence came this information? Nothing venture, 


122 “MOCK ME NOT, MONSIEUR TOM ; I AM BLIND!” 

nothing gained, and Captain Tom is not the man to 
miss an opportunity. 

He assumes a winning manner, and earnestly 
begs mademoiselle to give him some clew regarding 
his connection with the fair Alsatian’s mission. 

For the time being he forgets or ignores the pres- 
ence of the men behind the curtains and in the 
closet, who are there with malice toward himself 
alone ; he is so interested in what he asks that he 
seems to even have some influence upon the girl. 

“Monsieur Tom, perhaps I did wrong to excite 
your curiosity, but what does it matter? Mon Dieu! 
you cannot follow. Your passport might take you 
out to Yalerien, but how could you get beyond the 
German lines? Be consent to let it rest. Some day 
you may know all — if you live!” 

The last three words cause Monsieur Tom to shrug 
his shoulders. He has seen girls before now, but 
never one who interests him as does Myra. She 
plainly does not intend to tell him why Linda 
Dubois has started for Berlin in such haste after 
leaving Paris. Perhaps he can find this out for him- 
self. 

As quick as a flash he determines to adopt a cer- 
tain line of tactics, which he believes will bring 
about a measure of success. 

While she plays with her intended victim as a 
cat does with a mouse, he may be working his way 
closer and closer to the truth, until, ere the climax 
comes and these concealed conspirators show them- 
selves, he shall strike a clew and uncover a prize. 
That is his game, and he goes about it in his usual 
quiet manner that disarms criticism and suspicion. 

“Mademoiselle knows a gallant Uhlan officer, by 
name Johann Strauss?” he asks. 


“ MOCK ME NOT, MONSIEUR TOM ; I AM BLIND!" 123 

“Yes — he is a prisoner— Linda told me.” 

“He was a prisoner. Strange news reached me 
while on the way to this place, in obedience to the 
summons conveyed in your note. The man I saw in 
La Roquette has escaped.” 

“It is impossible!” cries the other, and yet her 
tone is one filled with half-suppressed excitement, 
which gives Monsieur Tom the sudden thought that 
Myra may be deeply interested in this gallant officer. 
Why not, since the whole game appears to be one 
of cross purposes? 

“ I admit it would seem so on the face of it all, 
but facts are stubborn things. I was assured that 
Johann Strauss had escaped,” continued the Ameri- 
can, watching her closely. 

“ It may be only a subterfuge ; they have killed 
him, perhaps, and wish to disguise the truth. Tell 
me, is what you say true?” 

“ I had it from a friend whose word I can believe 
as well as his oath. It seems that the Uhlan officer 
was wanted at one of the forts, to meet the gover- 
nor, who desired to ask him plain questions con- 
cerning that affair of the tunnel. On the way there, 
they were fired upon from an old house, and the 
escort was thrown into confusion at the idea of a 
scouting party of Prussians so nearly in the city. 
The lead flew like hail, and the men, demoralized, 
sought shelter. When they had time to look about 
them they found their prisoner gone. The alarm was 
given, a large force searched the ground, but up to 
the last advices not a sign of the party had been 
discovered.” 

“Brave Johann!” murmurs the girl, beneath her 
vail, and Captain Tom somehow hears her without 


124 “MOCK ME NOT, MONSIEUR TOM / I AM BLIND!” 

a feeling of jealousy — which fact he could not 
explain himself if examined. 

“You care much for that brave man,” he says, 
with deep meaning. 

“Why should I not?— he fights for the Fatherland, 
and my soul is bound up in that. Yes, Johann’s life 
is very dear to me.” 

How charmingly frank she is. He delights to 
hear her speak, for it seems like a fresh wave of 
pure air from the mountains ; and in Paris they long 
for this, having tasted the burnt powder-smoke for 
months. 

“ And yet— you saved me, when Linda had plotted 
my downfall?” 

She makes a pretty gesture of penance. 

“Ah, monsieur, that was a sad mistake.” 

“A mistake!” almost roared the American; “to 
save my life a mistake ! Come, Mademoiselle Myra, 
you are hard on me.” 

“ At any rate, it was a pity. Linda did not mean 
you harm — she used the drug for a personal pur- 
pose of her own. Had you been under the influence 
of that drug, who knows wliafc changes there might 
now have been— the great tunnel plot would have 
been a success— yes, even Paris might have been in 
the hands of the Germans.” 

“ That is true, but it grieves me, ma belle , to hear 
you say you regret your share in the work. Was it 
cruel, then, for me to save you in the street, when 
that tiger, Francois, baffled in his love-making, 
attempted to set the mob of Amazons upon you? 
Tell me that. ” 

A rippling little laugh comes from under the vail, 
and Captain Tom hears her reply : 

“Oh, Monsieur Tom, you are a man— it is only 


“MOCK ME NOT, MONSIEUR TOM ; I AM BLIND r 125 

right for you to help a female in distress at any 
time, without asking where her sympathies lie. 
Gallantry must be found wherever a true American 
goes. You see, we think highly of your nation over 
here.” 

By degrees he nears the point where he expects 
to effect his object — at the same time it is his inten- 
tion to approach it so naturally that her suspicions 
may not be aroused. 

This strange idea that has been running riot in 
his brain of late must be settled at once for all. He 
desires to know whether it is a substance or a 
shadow which he loves, and the man who has been 
a soldier of fortune in three wars, can be depended 
upon to find a means when so much is at stake. 

Those who lie in wait must have patience — their 
time will come before long. Just now it is Captain 
Tom’s inning. 

“Myra, I had an interview with Johann Strauss 
in prison. He is a brave man. I told him of Linda’s 
peril, and he begged me to take a letter to her from 
him.” 

Just as he expects, the girl utters a low cry, as if 
he has touched a secret spring, which indeed is the 
truth, since she loves the man who is madly devoted 
to Linda. 

It is upon this love that Captain Tom depends to 
win his case ; he is lawyer enough for that. 

“Monsieur, what was the nature of that paper? 
Perhaps you would not object to telling me, since I 
am deeply interested,” she pants. 

“I will do more — read it to you, for, as he was a 
prisoner and she a spy, I could not let a communi- 
cation pass between them without taking a copy of 


126 


THE MEN BEHIND THE CUB TAINS. 


it to prove its innocence. Here it is, mademoiselle, 
in plain black and white.” 

At the rustling of the paper Myra starts ; she half 
expectantly puts out her hand. This is the supreme 
test, and Captain Tom is quick enough to seize the 
opportunity. 

“Take it, mademoiselle; see for yourself what 
Johann has written to Linda, as he begs her to fly 
from Paris. I know now why I saved the copy — it 
was that you might read it.” 

He speaks hurriedly, feeling that she cannot resist 
the temptation; for Linda is her rival, beautiful 
Linda, who has stolen Johann’s heart. 

A pitiful little cry escapes her lips, not unlike a 
heart-broken moan — the outstretched hand falls 
nerveless to her side. 

“Will you not read, mademoiselle?” he asks, lean- 
ing forward and rustling the paper. 

“Mock me not, Monsieur Tom,” she cries, with a 
groan. “You have forgotten— I am blind !” 


CHAPTER XY. 

THE MEN BEHIND THE CURTAINS. 

An electric thrill passes through the frame of the 
American soldier when Myra bursts out with this 
lamentation. While she speaks, some power causes 
her to grasp the vail that has up to this moment 
concealed her countenance, and with a movement 
she tosses it aside. 

There is revealed the same girlish face Tom has 
so often seen, and which has even appeared in his 
dreams of late. 

He fastens his attention upon the eyes, and how 


THE MEN BEHIND THE CURTAINS. 


127 


his whole nature is stirred when he sees the same 
pitiful, sightless orbs upon which he gazed in the 
street, after saving Myra from the fury of the mad 
mob. 

Strange to say, this is what he has hoped to see — 
it gives him a chance to solve the problem that has 
of late been puzzling him. He believes in striking 
while the iron is hot, and there can be no telling 
, how much longer these concealed men may be held 
back. 

“You are Myra?” he exclaims, catching the girl 
by the wrist. 

“Yes, I am Myra,” she breathes. 

“ It was not you who warned me that the wine 
was drugged — who held the arm of the would-be 
assassin in the catacombs, calling upon me to 
awaken. Tell me, Myra, who was the angel to whom 
I am indebted for my life? She had eyes as bright as 
the stars— they have been shining before me ever 
since. Speak her name. You are a woman, and you 
love — have pity on me, and breathe her name.” 

Thus wildly imploring, the American gazes into 
her face. He knows it cannot be the girl of the 
catacombs for several reasons— she had eyes full of 
dancing light, while Myra’s sightless orbs tell a 
different story ; there is not' the faintest sign of a 
scar upon the cheek where he saw the blood after 
the men had hurled aside the woman whom he had 
taken for Myra. 

No matter what she says, he can never again 
believe that; his eyes have been opened, and he 
realizes that it is another he loves. 

She seems under a spell ; he has conjured her by 
the love she bears the Uhlan to tell him the truth, 
and it proves to be the one sacred motive that may 


128 


THE MEN BEHIND THE CURTAINS. 


influence her. Perhaps something of jealousy 
rankles in her heart, for she realizes that Linda has 
gone, and Johann Strauss is free to follow. The 
green-eyed monster may make the most gentle maid 
cruel and uncompromising. It has wrought greater 
wonders before now, and will so long as the world 
swings along, and human passions throb. 

“ I will tell you, Monsieur Tom — why should I not, 
since it may be the only satisfaction you can have? 
It was my poor self you saved from those terrible 
Amazons on the streets of Paris. It was my cousin 
Meta who paid my debt by saving you, and thus in- 
curred the deadly hate of Linda.” 

“Meta!” Tom allows the name to escape his lips 
in a caressing way — it has leaped into his heart and 
taken possession there. 

The girl laughs — strange how his feelings have 
changed toward her already. 

He even discovers that Myra can be heartless and 
cruel — peculiar qualities to find in a blind girl. 

“Meta will be more to your way of thinking, Mon- 
sieur Tom, since her heart is with France. Mine is 
where it has always been— you see my colors,” and 
she flashes from the bosom of her dress a diminu- 
tive German flag, which she presses rapturously to 
her lips. 

Captain Tom is not yet satisfied. He has more to 
learn, since new thoughts and suspicions have been 
aroused within. 

“Johann Strauss told me a strange story when I 
visited him in prison. Listen, Myra, and let me 
know whether it is true or not. It may be the last 
favor I shall ask, and you owe me something, I 
believe.” 

“Speak on, monsieur — I listen.” 


THE MEN BEHIND THE CUMAINZ. 


129 


“ He told of a strange band or society which Linda 
organized in Berlin, the members of which, to show 
their love for Germany, vowed never to marry a 
man who was a foreigner. Is this true?” 

“As you say, monsieur.” 

“Myra, you belong to that circle?” 

“I glory in the fact,” and her manner is evidence 
of the pride she takes in the consciousness that she 
is faithful to her country. 

“And Meta — she would not join?” 

He endeavors to calm his voice, but there is a per- 
ceptible tremor in it, which of course she instantly 
detects — trust a girl for that. 

“There is no ground for your fears, Monsieur 
Tom — Meta would sooner die than wed a German — 
her heart is with France, the little traitress — but no, 
I cannot call her that, since we belong in the border 
country, and in Alsace-Lorraine even brothers go 
different ways.” 

A load has been taken from Tom’s mind. He real- 
izes that Meta can be won, that there is no chasm 
between them which cannot be bridged by his love, 
such as must have been the case had she come under 
the vow taken by these young women in Berlin. 

Strangely happy he feels, and yet something still 
seems gnawing at his heart— a few words spoken by 
Myra have given a vague sort of uneasiness. 

He looks at the girl of Germany as she stands 
there under the light of that one lamp — how like a 
goddess she appears, holding his destiny in her 
small hand. 

“Tell me, strange girl, where can I find Meta? Is 
she in Paris still? Shall I see her soon?” 

“That is impossible, for she has accompanied 
Linda — they are far on the road to Berlin.” 


130 


THE MEN BEHIND THE CURTAINS. 


This is liis fear — she has said it — Meta has gone 
away, in the power of the woman who hates and 
who knows how to strike. 

The cold hand clutches his heart, for he feels that 
Meta is lost— there is no friend to warn her of dan- 
ger, and Linda will surely visit her vengeance upon 
the girl who has really been the cause of her plans 
failing. 

Captain Tom turns upon Myra again, and his 
voice has a new ring in it — he pleads no more, but 
commands, and she recognizes his right to ask ques- 
tions that are pertinent, because they concern his 
life happiness. When this man is aroused, there 
are few who can resist him — men cringe before his 
aspect, and women admire. 

“Tell me, does Linda hate Meta?” he asks. 

“I am sure of it,” comes the reply. 

“And why?” 

“In the first place, she knows my cousin is the 
cause of her plans failing. Had you taken the 
drugged wine, as I said before, Monsieur Tom, who 
knows but what ere now Paris would have been 
forced to capitulate.” 

“There is another reason — tell me that.” 

The blind girl laughs in his face. 

“MonDieu! how stupid you men can be! Tome 
all is so very plain. I am a woman, you see, and 
can read others better than if I could see. ^ou love 
Meta, Monsieur Tom, and Linda loves you. Plainly, 
then, that is a good reason for her hating poor 
Meta.” 

The American realizes that this is no time for 
mincing matters. Besides, Linda’s secret has 
already been known to him. 

“Myra, tell me, in the name of Heaven, what do 


THE MEN BEHIND THE CURTAINS . 


131 


you think she will do to harm that innocent young 
girl?” He once more falls back to entreaty in his 
distress of mind. 

The blind girl shakes her head. 

“ Who can tell what deviltry may not be hatched 
in the brain of a jealous woman? Even I, poor blind 
creature as I am, have felt the torments of the mon- 
ster. Linda is lovely, but she can be terrible when 
aroused, and her whole soul is wrapped up in you, 
Captain Tom.” 

“ She is a vampire if she could harm one so inno- 
cent because I love her. I have never professed to 
understand women, but surely she could not be so 
blood-thirsty as that.” 

“ Live and learn, Monsieur Tom ; you have much 
to discover about my sex. Probably you have never 
seen a woman whose heart was torn by the mad 
fingers of jealousy — a woman beautiful as an houri, 
enraged because her charms fail to win the heart 
she covets. Look back, monsieur— history tells us 
more than once that such women have been capable 
of visiting their vengeance most cruelly, not upon 
the man they loved — no, they always hope to win 
him back after the object of his passion has been 
removed from the path.” 

It can easily be surmised that these words do not 
calm the hot blood that is rioting through the Amer- 
ican adventurer’s veins. 

He hears, and naturally pictures every conceiva- 
ble danger as menacing Meta. 

She is in the company of the false Linda, travel- 
ing toward Berlin, with no one to warn her— who 
can say that she will not be arrested as a French 
spy, and doomed to a terrible death? Such a fate 
would perhaps suit the temper of Linda, 


132 


THE MEN BEHIND THE CURTAINS. 


Since the siege began, Captain Tom has not up to 
this hour had any desire to leave the city on the 
Seine. Now he feels an eagerness to pass beyond 
the lines of the besiegers, to overtake these two 
travelers, and tear Meta from the power of the false 
Linda. 

The thought is useless, and his impotent condition 
makes Tom more eager for wings to bear him over 
those watchful encircling lines, away to the border, 
where he might yet intercept Linda and the girl she 
takes with her to Berlin, with dark vengeance in 
her mind. 

“Why does Meta go? Her heart is with France, 
you assure me; then why should she so readily 
accompany Linda to the German capital?” he asks, 
still groping for light. 

She answers him calmly, remembering why he 
has been brought here. 

“ Linda has deceived her with a story to the effect 
that Basil has been taken and is a prisoner in Ber- 
lin, so that Meta’s heart draws her.” 

“Who is Basil?” demands the American lover. 

“Her only brother.” 

“Not dangerous, then. I would to Heaven I knew 
of a chance to leave Paris now — how gladly would 
I avail myself of it.” 

“For Meta’s sake I am sorry, monsieur, that you 
must remain— sorrj that my religious sense of duty 
to my country must overshadow my gratitude to 
you, and make me seem an ingrate — but patriots 
know nothing else save stern duty.” 

He knows what is coming, and does not feel the 
least tremor of fear — it is bis purpose to take the 
reins in his hands at this point, and manipulate 
things to suit himself. 


THE MEN BEHIND THE CURTAINS. 


133 


“ Mademoiselle, do not worry over what cannot be 
helped. Captain Tom has never depended on luck 
or any other power to help him out of a tight place. 
You see this weapon, mademoiselle; it has been my 
best friend in time of need. Suppose you were 
attacked by footpads in the Pyrenees and in great 
danger. All you would have to do would be to take 
this silver whistle, raise it to your lips, so, and 
blow a shrill note, to bring me to your rescue. 
Sound the signal, and see how I would come to aid 
you.” 

She thinks not of the double meaning, but with a 
low laugh raises the silver whistle. Captain Tom 
sees, in a glass, the curtains trembling violently — 
then a head is thrust out, and some one makes vio- 
lent gestures of threat and appeal. 

Myra heeds not — she is blind. 

The silver whistle is now at her lips, and in an- 
other moment she will give the sound the American 
wants. 

As the man in hiding realizes that he cannot 
make her understand, he seems about to proceed to 
more extreme measures; but just at this moment 
Captain Tom whirls around, the light flashing from 
his revolver, and like a tortoise drawing in its head, 
the fellow ducks behind the curtain again. 

Ah, Myra blows the fatal note, little suspecting 
that in so doing she is striking a blow against the 
cause she loves so well. 

A groan comes from back of the curtains ; the man 
who hides there is no fool, and he realizes that Cap- 
tain Tom has a method in all this. But for the fact 
that he has a great veneration for a revolver in the 
hands of an American, he might be tempted to rush 
out and expedite matters. 


134 THE MEN BEHIND THE CUB TAINS. 

Captain Tom knows who has won, but he shows 
no great interest in the matter, as his thoughts are 
far away from Paris, on the road to the German 
capital, where Linda hastens with her unsuspecting 
protege . 

“Mademoiselle Myra,” he says, quietly, and yet 
with the least suspicion of a sneer in his voice, “not 
many minutes ago you professed to feel sorry that 
duty to the cause you love must make you seem un- 
grateful. It is the fortune of war that already the 
tide has turned and is running in the opposite quar- 
ter. It grieves me to be compelled to war against 
members of the opposite sex, for whom I have such 
respect, but if they will enter into the plots and 
plans of soldiers, they must accept the conse- 
quences.” 

“What do you mean. Monsieur Tom? Your words 
convey a vague threat. Perhaps you do not know 
that ” 

“Pardon, mademoiselle, I know all. You have 
three men behind yonder portiere, and several more 
in the closet yonder. I fear them not — alone I would 
meet them in battle, and let them see how we Amer- 
icans can face the music— teach them tricks learned 
upon many a bloody battle-field in our late civil 
war. But I have thought it best to do this thing in 
another way, in order to keep the peace and create 
no excitement in the Cafe Madrid. You yourself 
have given the signal on this silver whistle — behold 
the result.” 

While the blind girl cries aloud in anger and vex- 
ation of spirit, Captain Tom advances to the door. 


THE CHANCE HAS COMET 


135 


CHAPTER XVI. 

“the chance has come!” 

A knock comes upon the door. Captain Tom has 
drawn the bolt. 

“Enter!” he cries, in French. 

The door opens, and a man dressed in sober black 
walks into the room. 

“Ah ! good-evening, Monsieur le Prefect of Police. 
Mademoiselle Myra, allow me the pleasure of an 
introduction. And these gentlemen, his deputies 
from the Central Office. It is a great pleasure, I 
assure you, monsieur.” 

The silence of death falls upon the room, and all 
eyes are bent upon the curtains, which seem to 
tremble as though in a draught. 

“ Monsieur le Prefect, if there are arms secreted 
here, they are most apt to be found behind yonder 
curtains, or in this closet. As it is dangerous for 
loyal men to prowl about in such a den of plotters, 
permit me to suggest that it might be wise to first 
send a dozen bullets ahead, and look for the arms 
afterward.” 

Captain Tom’s words are distinct enough to be 
heard all through the room. There is at once a 
movement seen, the curtains shake like the sail of 
a vessel in a squall, and it is evident that the terri- 
fied conspirators are tumbling over each other in 
their eagerness to emerge before the expected volley 
comes. 

Their mad evolutions result in tearing the cur- 
tains from their hooks, and over the three roll, so 


136 


“THE CHANCE HAS COME!' 


tangled up as to be almost smothered. A head pro- 
trudes from the struggling mass, and a hand is held 
up, while a voice bellows : 

“Mercy, Monsieur le Prefect! We are men of 
Paris, who have been deceived ! Our intentions were 
honorable— patriotic. It is Barbe the butcher who 
appeals to you.” 

“And here is Monsieur Jean, the Student, dancer 
of the Jardin Bullier, who delights all Paris with his 
heels— Monsieur le Prefect will not cast gloom on 
the hearts of the fair sex by annihilating the pride 
of the Closerie des Lilas,” cries a lithe young chap, 
crawling out from the tangle. 

In him the American recognizes a student whom 
he has seen in times past taking a leading part at 
the garden which comes nearest to the Mabille. 
Young men bring their sweethearts to dance, and 
as the hour grows late, the scene becomes so wild 
that respectable persons depart. Jean, the Student, 
has evidently made a better use of his heels than 
his brain, since he is proud to be called the beau of 
the Jardin Bullier, but even that may not save 
him, once he has fallen into the clutches of the Pre- 
fect of Police, that quiet man who balances the 
destinies of so many people in his scales. 

By this time another hubbub has arisen ; men are 
beating on the door of the closet, and calling aloud 
in anxious tones : 

“ The door is locked ! We surrender — we are inno- 
cent, Monsieur le Prefect ! Let us out, and hear our 
story!” 

Captain Tom has seen enough— he knows Myra 
will not be injured, though she, too, may be sent 
out of the French lines, as was Linda. He has 
received positive assurance of this from the man 


THE CHANCE HAS COME!' 


137 


who rules Paris. Just now his only wish is that he 
may cross the lines as easily, for his whole soul is 
wrapped up in Meta and the unknown danger that 
threatens her. 

He waves his hand — Monsieur le Prefect under- 
stands and returns the salute. 

Then Captain Tom turns and leaves the room, the 
last sound he hears being the angry sobs of a baffled 
woman. 

He thinks no more of the perils of the past, for 
such men meet danger as it flies. 

They live not in the past, but the present and the 
future. 

When the American walks through the outer room 
of the cafe chantant , he notices that several of those 
present survey him curiously, including the land- 
lord himself. Perhaps they have known that it was 
a spider’s web he entered, and wonder how it comes 
that he walks away unharmed. It is not every fly 
that thus escapes the silken meshes that are woven 
to entrap him. 

He reaches the open air, how cool and refreshing 
it seems after the close room he has left. 

Ah ! the great dogs of war are making the earth 
tremble under Paris— the Krupp guns are again 
throwing their terrible missiles into the doomed 
city, and from the rapidity of their fire it seems as 
though the enemy were determined to make that 
night a memorable one in the siege. 

How a shell bursts in a house, and a shower of 
bricks and mortar falls across the street ; anon it is 
a bridge that is struck, or perhaps a church tower ; 
this section of Paris begins to show positive signs 
that the bombardment is not an effect of the imagi- 
nation, 


138 


THE CHANCE HAS COME!' 


Captain Tom consults the first clock he comes 
across, and groans as he notes that it is not -yet ten 
—two whole hours to pass before the time arrives 
when Mickey is to report. 

What shall he do — how can he kill time? He 
thinks of the theaters and gardens, but they are 
almost dead in this time of siege— those who were 
wont to frequent them have a greater panorama to 
watch all day from the hills, and remain up nearly all 
night to see the flash of the Prussian guns, hear the 
screaming of the shells passing overhead, and then 
running to witness the desolation they cause. 

So he wanders the streets. 

They are far from deserted — even a threatening 
storm from the south, and the danger from bursting 
shells do not keep the Parisian crowd indoors — it is 
only once in a life-time they are permitted to wit- 
ness a siege, and as to the bombardment, that is a 
luxury they have never dreamed would fall to their 
lot. 

Really, they act like children let loose from school. 
Here and there they run ; where a bomb explodes 
they gather, confident that lightning never strikes 
the same place twice. 

Captain Tom has been interested in these things 
himself previous to this time, but now he has his 
mind set about something else. 

Will Mickey succeed — is there a way to leave the 
beleaguered city? He hopes and yet despairs, know- 
ing how tightly the German forces have drawn 
around Paris, with the intention of closing all ave- 
nues of communication with the outside world. 

The minutes drag on— it is now eleven, and a shell 
has created great havoc in the street near where 

Tom loiters, dropping back of a Red Cross ambu- 

\ 


THE CHAlsCE HAS COME!” 


139 


lance bound for Fecker Hospital on the Rue de 
Sevres, and completing the work begun by Prussian 
bullets. 

All the wounded are slain, the driver’s head is 
almost taken from his body, but the doctor who has 
accompanied the vehicle is not touched. Such are 
the vagaries of war. A crowd rushes up, the 
wounded horses are slain, to be divided among the 
half -starved canaille , and when soldiers come along 
the dead are carried away. 

Such fearful scenes are beginning to appear upon 
the streets of Paris ; hitherto they have been con- 
fined to the forts and hospitals. 

They usher in the new reign of blood that is soon 
to visit this unfortunate city, hitherto the gay capi- 
tal of the world of pleasure. 

An old soldier, Captain Tom sees this thing with 
a shrug of the shoulders. He learns that none are 
wounded, and nothing can be done to help those 
that are dead. 

He converses with the surgeon a while, and as 
the soldiers bear away the broken wagon, in which 
the dead have been placed, and from which drops a 
trail of blood, the American once more paces up 
and down the street. 

There is the hole where the fatal shell struck — 
how these gruesome iron spheres tear and demolish 
when they drop. Herr Krupp must be proud when 
he hears what a share his pets have had in subduing 
Paris. 

Again Tom groans at the slow passage of time. 
Surely the minutes are leaden. He wants to know 
the worst. If Mickey’s mission is a failure, they 
must turn some other way. If he has to disguise 
himself as a German, and attempt to run the gant- 


140 


THE CHANCE HAS COMET 


let, with the risk of being shot as a spy, Captain 
Tom is determined to find some chance to leave 
Paris. 

Twelve at last ! 

The midnight hour is marked by even a fiercer 
outburst from the Krupp batteries, and the shells 
sweep the Latin Quartier of the French capital with 
more destructive force than at any previous time. 

Captain Tom whistles as he hears them dropping 
now on one side and anon on the other, occasion- 
ally exploding overhead, and often simply burying 
themselves in the buildings. 

“This is becoming dused hot,” he mutters, as a 
screaming overhead tells of the swift passage of a 
shell. He waits to hear the result, and then con- 
tinues : “ It is only a question of days now before 
the Germans walk into Paris. Well, the sooner the 
better, since we have been fairly beaten. I only 
hope morning won’t see me inside the walls.” 

If the minutes were long before, they seem doubly 
so now. One o’clock comes, then two, and finds no 
change in the programme; for there are as many 
people abroad, the shells continue to drop, and Cap- 
tain Tom paces his beat as furious as a baited bear 
— angry because fortune makes sport of him. 

Like the rest of the human family, he is short- 
sighted, and cannot recognize the favors of fortune 
until they are upon him. What he now deems a 
calamity is really a blessing in disguise. He is not 
used to being made the sport of an idle wind, and 
sometimes has been known to utter Napoleon’s 
boast, “Circumstances— I make theml” 

Game to the backbone, he will not leave the ren- 
dezvous until daylight, but as the time goes on, 


“THE CHANCE HAS COMET 


141 


Captain Tom realizes that never in all his life has 
he passed such a night. 

It is not a great while now before morning, and 
the bombardment has dwindled down to a shot 
every five minutes. 

Hopeless and desperate, Captain Tom still sticks 
to his post. Suddenly he discovers a figure advanc- 
ing along the street. Can that be Mickey? What 
has happened to him? He comes staggering like a 
drunken man, and Tom’s first thought is that the 
Irishman must have yielded to temptation and im- 
bied too heavily. 

Then he notices that his clothes are in tatters, and 
whip behind him as he advances. This causes new 
thoughts to enter his head, and his faith in Mickey 
McCray remains. 

He rushes forward to meet him. Mickey gives a 
groan that is desolate and sad — it tells the story 
before a word is spoken. 

“ It’s all lost, Captain Tom ! The bloody Prussians 
have discovered the secret path ! Didn’t I fall into 
an ambush and get kotched?” 

“What!” shouts the American, “have you been a 
prisoner of war this night?” 

“That’s the truth, sir. Twinty Prussians had me 
in their hands— bad cess to them. I was to be shot 
sure at the rising of the sun,” returns the Irishman, 
with becoming modesty. 

“But you escaped— how?” 

“ By the favor of Providence, knocking me guard 
over and running for me life. Tare an’ ounds, but 
it was a hot chase ! I scratched through the bushes, 
over twinty fences, through three houses out beyant 
Belleville, and finally reached the lines, to be nearly 


142 


THE CHANCE HAS COMET 


shot for me pains. It’s a bad job I’ve made of it, I 
fear, Captain Tom.” 

Mickey is disconsolate, but this is the very thing 
that cheers the other. 

“Never mind,” he cries, “Heaven will help us yet, 
my good fellow. We can bide our time.” 

Brave words ! 

They have hardly been uttered when there is a 
peculiar hissing sound heard over their heads, at 
which cautious Mickey prostrates himself upon the 
pavement. Then comes a frightful crash as the 
bomb explodes down the street. 

Captain Tom has just noticed two men hastening 
toward them — the streets are no longer crowded at 
this hour — and when the smoke clears away they 
are seen lying on the pavement. 

“This way, Mickey,” he cries, and in a moment he 
is beside the latest victims of Prussian shells. 

One man is stone dead, the other dying, and bend- 
ing over the latter, Captain Tom discovers a friend. 

“ Good heavens ! you, professor?” 

The dying man groans and looks up. 

“I recognize you, Captain Tom— you are a true 
friend to France. Put your hand into my inner 
pocket. You feel some papers— take them out.” 

“I have them, wet with your brave blood,” says 
the American, quickly. 

“ Swear to me that you will endeavor to deliver 
them— it is very important.” 

“I promise— if there is any show. Where are they 
to go, professor?” 

“Lift me up— I am dying fast. That packet holds 
the last hope of expiring Paris. If it can be placed 
in the hands of General Chanzy within two days, 
the city may be saved.” 


THE CHANCE HAS COME!' 


143 


“Chanzy! he is a hundred miles away to the 
north; how could one reach him?” exclaimed Cap- 
tain Tom, with a consciousness that the supreme 
moment has arrived. 

“ I have the means— it is yours. Go, and the God 
of battles watch over you. Two blocks down this 
street is an empty lot — in that a balloon hangs, 
eager to cleave the air; all is in readiness. My 
assistant courier and myself were hastening there 

when Air — your promise, captain! Heaven 

save poor France!” and the American, kneeling 
there, realizes that he holds a dead man in his arms. 

Gently he places the professor down, and then 
springs to his feet — the blood leaps like molten lava 
through his veins until he seems to be on fire. 

“Mickey, did you hear that? The road lies before 
us — we prayed, Mickey, my boy, and the chance, 
thank God, the chance has come!” 

He waits not to see what Mickey does, but speeds 
down the street like a tornado. 

Mickey clatters along at his heels, with new life 
infused in him by the wonderful opportunity that 
has arrived. 

Thus hastening along, they reach the open lot, 
where, surrounded by buildings, a huge silk globe 
swings and tugs in a powerful way at the ropes that 
hold it down. Daylight is already at hand, and yet 
several lanterns, hung around, help to show the 
faces of the crowd. 

A man is in the car — the American hardly notices 
him, but pushes forward with an air of authority, 
calling in French : 

“Stand by to cut the ropes!” 

Then he springs into the car— Mickey makes a 
misstep, and very nearly finds himself left, but 


Ill THE VOYAGERS OF THE CLOUDS. 

Tom’s strong hand clutches him by the collar, and 
he drops over the side. 

“Bless my soul, it’s Captain Tom!” calls out a 
well-known voice, and Lord Eric rushes forward to 
shake hands, but just at that moment the ropes are 
cut, and the balloon shoots upward. A roaring 
sound is heard— cheers from ten-score of throats 
arise — then the daring American hears that bull- 
like Saxon voice above all else, bellowing out : 

“Hurrah for Captain Tom!” 


CHAPTER XVII. 

THE VOYAGERS OF THE CLOUDS. 

The balloon mounts upward like a bird, impatient 
at long restraint, the hoarse shouts of the crowd 
below die away, but the last sound heard by Cap- 
tain Tom, from the city that lies in semi-darkness 
underneath, is the deep voice of the Englishman, 
shouting, in stentorian tones: 

“Good luck to you, Captain Tom!” 

As they draw upward the light grows stronger, 
and the strangest sight of their lives is presented. 
The sun peeps into view beyond the horizon, and 
yet in the valleys below darkness still lingers to a 
certain extent. They can make out the limits of the 
great city spread under thfem, with her lights still 
burning, though scanty in number. Even the ex- 
plosion of a shell is distinctly seen, as the noise also 
comes to their ears. 

Will the balloon be discovered by the watchful 
eyes of the Prussians? Knowing the fate of one 
other monster of the air that has attempted to leave 
Paris, Captain Tom doubts not that they will be 


THE VOYAGERS OF THE CLOUDS. 


145 


seen. Much depends upon whether they can keep 
out of range. 

One thing favors them — there has been a tempo- 
rary lull in the breeze, and this allows them to 
reach a good height before commencing to drift 
over the German camps. 

The light grows fast below, and looking down, 
they can now make out the environs of Paris, her 
forts and other defenses. 

Then it is noticed that they are drifting slowly in 
a northerly direction, being a mile or more above 
the surface of the earth. 

The German lines come in view ; it is easy to trace 
them by the cannon glinting in the early morning 
light. Even the roll of a drum reaches their ears — 
can it be reveille or an alarm? 

Such a sight as this has never before been given 
to the American, and he can only gaze upon it with 
intense wonder. 

At the same time, while he drifts over the enemy’s 
works, he wonders what effect it would have, what 
consternation it would cause, could he drop certain 
explosives into the forts. 

Another cannon sounds; how plainly they hear 
the whistle of the shell through the air; one would 
think it was traveling near by, and not on a plain 
far below. Heavens! w’hat a shock it gives them 
when the shell bursts not a -hundred feet behind the 
balloon. What if one particle of iron strikes the silk 
of the great globe — it must tear a hole that will 
cause the gas to escape, the balloon to collapse, and 
fcheir descent will probably be at the rate of a mile 
a minute. Well, there is one satisfaction — they will 
never know what hurt them. 

Thank Heaven, the first shot has not succeeded in 


146 THE VOYAGERS OF THE CLOUDS. 

doing any damage, but others must follow, and 
sooner or later the catastrophe may come upon 
them. 

That cold clutch upon his heart is only a passing 
one, for in half a dozen seconds he is himself again. 
With Captain Tom that means bold, brave, and 
watchful. 

They must float over miles of hostile camps, and 
presently a dozen guns will be aimed at them from 
as many different quarters. Thus the doom of the 
balloon and its occupants will be sealed, unless 
something prevents. 

What can be done? For the first time Captain 
Tom remembers that there is another occupant of 
the car besides himself and Mickey. He whirls 
around upon this individual with the abruptness 
that characterizes his movements when in action. 
It has made him a tiger in battle. 

One glance he takes at the man, and then, with- 
out asking him a single question, seizes upon some 
sand-bags and begins to toss them overboard with 
lightning rapidity. Joy! the balloon makes a clear 
jump with the passage of each bag ; relieved of so 
much weight, it begins to mount higher. 

There is no doubt of this, for they can feel the 
climbing motion, and objects below, though the 
shadows have been chased away by the coming of 
the sun, seem to be farther off. 

This has been done just in time, for from half a 
dozen quarters come the deep-throated discharge of 
cannon, all of which are undoubtedly elevated to 
an angle of at least forty-five degrees, so as to send 
their iron missiles upward toward the lazily float- 
ing balloon. 

The Germans know that this balloon certainly 


THE VOYAGERS OF THE CLOUDS. 


147 


carries important dispatches, and the most desper- 
ate endeavors will be made to accomplish its de- 
struction. 

It mounts higher — Captain Tom ceases to cast out 
the sand-bags, for he realizes that they are now at 
an altitude beyond the reach of the bombs, which 
burst far below them with deep-toned growls, as 
though furious at defeat. 

Then he leisurely leans over the bulwark of the 
basket and surveys the magnificent panorama 
spread before him. It is a noble sight, but would 
make the heart of a Frenchman bleed to see the 
hated army of Prussia encamped upon the hills 
around his beloved Paris, in possession of Ver- 
sailles, the railroads to the frontier over which pro- 
visions for the immense host come, and stringing 
out for many miles in either direction. 

France is in the grasp of an octopus; nothing 
remains for her but an honorable peace, and the 
surrender of border territory. 

Captain Tom sees more. His eagle eye notes the 
fact that dark clouds are rushing up from the south- 
east, telling of a storm. This lull in the wind is but 
a forerunner of what is to come. 

He sees even more than this. Looking down upon 
the camps of the Prussians, as the balloon slowly 
passes over them, his attention is directed to a cer- 
tain spot where men, seeming like ants, are wildly 
running. 

What is that swaying object? The truth bursts 
upon him suddenly, and he realizes that it must be 
a rival balloon— perhaps one captured by the Ger- 
mans at some past time, and held in readiness to 
send in pursuit should the beleaguered Parisians 


148 


THE VOYAGERS OF THE CLOUDS. 


attempt to get dispatches out of the city by an air- 
ship. 

This gives a chance of complications — perhaps a 
duel in mid-air, where a single bullet would rend 
the stricken balloon and send its passengers down 
to a terrible death. 

Oh ! for a breeze tc waft them on ! There must be 
some delay in sending up the rival balloon, which, 
of course, is to their advantage. Every minute 
counts now. 

Upward climb the storm-clouds — they bring with 
them a strong wind, a regular gale, and it will be 
well for Captain Tom and his party if they are in a 
higher strata when this strikes. 

Clouds begin to drift between the earth and the 
three occupants of the air-ship; at times all is 
obscured below by a mass of fog. 

Through an opening Mickey catches a glimpse of 
the Prussian balloon — a far-away roaring sound 
announces the coming of the southern storm, per- 
haps sweeping in from the Bay of Biscay, or even 
whirling up from the blue Mediterranean, in the 
quarter of Marseilles. 

“Begorra, she’s risin’ fast!” shouts Mickey, in 
the most intense excitement, as he cranes his neck 
to look into the gulf below. 

“The storm, do you mean, old chap?” asks Cap- 
tain Tom, who has been casting a glance aloft, as a 
sailor might look to his rigging when the howl of 
the tempest sounds over the watery waste. 

“Oh, no, the Dutch balloon, Captain Tom, dear,” 
returns the Irish sentinel. 

This information draws the attention of Tom to 
the region below. He has a fleeting glimpse of the 
Prussian balloon, rising like an immense bird not a 


THE VOYAGERS OF THE CLOUDS. U3 

great way behind them, and then the whirling 
clouds shut out the view. 

Fierce rushes of air sweep the dark masses of fog- 
banks toward the north-west. There are tremen- 
dous struggles of different currents in the mass of 
clouds, that appear like giants in a battle for 
supremacy. If the other air-ship is caught in a gale 
like this, the chances are that it will be destroyed. 

Even at their height they feel the wind, and 
begin to sweep rapidly toward the north. As this is 
what they have desired, it gives them a feeling of 
exhilaration. The German camps will soon be left 
behind, and when a chance comes to descend, it 
will be upon the soil of France, free from occupa- 
tion by the enemy. 

Whether the storm ascends, or they dip into the 
midst of it, none of them are ever able to tell, but 
suddenly the balloon begins to turn around, and 
act in a frantic manner — now careening over and 
whirling the basket or car through space at a rate 
that causes its occupants to seize hold of the sides 
and gasp for breath — anon making a whirl in a new 
direction with such rapidity that the supports of 
the car threaten to give way under the strain. 

They are in the midst of a hurricane that has 
sped northward from the warm shores of Africa 
even at this time of year. It may not be felt to any 
extent upon the earth, but there is certainly war 
among the clouds that sweep along on this January 
morning, over the battle-fields around Paris. 

Captain Tom does not lose his head, which is a 
fortunate thing — had he become rattled, they might 
have been lost. The whirling wind-clouds have no 
mercy, and should they be caught in a vortex some 
accident must occur. 


150 THE VOYAGERS OF THE CLOUDS. 

It does not take much to cause a catastrophe to a 
balloon that floats a mile or more above the earth. 
Those who venture aloft with such a frail support 
between heaven and earth run peculiar risks, and 
their lives can be said to be suspended by a single 
hair, like the sword of Damocles. 

Again Captain Tom, holding on with one hand, 
tosses out a sand-bag — the unknown passenger imi- 
tates his example, and once more the balloon, 
lightened of a portion of its load, mounts into space. 
Thank Heaven ! they leave the worst of the storm- 
clouds below them, and reach the single current of 
air, that bears them along as speedily and yet with- 
out danger. 

“I seen ’em,” declared Mickey, nodding saga- 
ciously, as he looks at the raging masses of fog and 
vapor below. 

This time the other'is quick to catch his meaning, 
for he believes he has had a glimpse himself of 
what the other speaks about. 

“The German balloon, you mean?” he says. 

“Yes. It was having a high old time, whirlin’ 
around just like I seen a priest, or dervish, in Cairo, 
down in Egypt— bedad, it makes me poor head swim 
to think of it. If the gossoons in the Dutch balloon 
ain’t dizzy by this time I miss me guess.” 

“I hope we will see no more of them,” says Tom. 

He hardly notes his words, for his attention has 
been directed to the stranger. Up to this time he 
has only given the other a passing glance, but now 
he stares in startled surprise, for he has suddenly 
discovered that the passenger carried by the bal- 
loon is a woman. 

True, she wears the garments of his own sex, but 
there can be no mistaking the fair skin and curly 


THE VOYAGERS OF THE CLOUDS. 


151 


hair. He is amazed, for it is certainly a most aston- 
ishing thing to find a female up in the clouds. 

The woman’s eyes meet his— there is a look of 
deep perplexity, and even alarm, in them, which 
causes brave Captain Tom some uneasiness, for an 
idea that is very probably the truth has flashed into 
his mind. 

The argonaut of the air would not be apt to take 
a female with him in his perilous voyage among the 
clouds, unless it was his wife. If this proves to be 
the case, Tom must endeavor to keep the truth from 
her, at least for the present — there is no telling how 
she may take it, and a crazy creature in the frail 
car of a balloon would not be a desirable thing. 

Bending down, he whispers a few sentences to 
the Irishman, depending upon Mickey’s quick wit 
to grasp the situation, and receiving a grunt in 
reply which tells him he is understood. 

Then Captain Tom turns upon the other. 

“ Pardon, madam,” he says, in his best French, 
“ unless I mistake, you are the good wife of my 
friend, Professor Leon Valeau?” 

She nods eagerly — her breath comes in quick 
gasps, and her eyes are fixed upon his. Captain 
Tom knows what she is about to ask, and that it is 
for the interest of all that he prevaricate, but it 
requires a tremendous amount of nerve to do it with 
those clear eyes looking him through. 

“My husband— he came not— strangers took pos- 
session of our ship — where is my Leon — what have 
you done with him?” 

Her hand is on his arm, her liquid eyes close to 
his face, and Captain Tom suffers more in passing 
through this experience than if he were facing 
hostile cannon. His nature is frank, and deception 


152 


THE VUTAQEB3 OF THE CLOUDS. 


foreign to it, but he feels that a duty has been 
thrust upon him, disagreeable though it may be. 

“Your husband could not come; truth to tell you, 
madam, he was slightly wounded, and begged me 
to take his place. Perhaps you have heard him speak 
of me — Captain Tom?” 

“ Indeed, I have, monsieur. But if he sent you, 
how about the dispatches?” 

“For General Chanzy? They are here on mv per- 
son. See, I prove it to you Confusion ! I forgot 

— you see, madam, the courier who carried these 
was killed at the same time the professor received 
his wound ; it is his blood upon the packet — that is 
all.” 

She looks at the stains ; how these marks would 
convict the American ; but he is willing to sacrifice 
himself for the general good. 

“Was — my husband badly hurt?” she continues; 
and Tom, having put his foot into it, feels that he 
must go througn to the end. 

“I don’t think his wound is painful, madam. 
These things generally begin to hurt about the 
second day. I beg you will not worry — no good can 
come of it. The best surgeons in the world are in 
Paris, and Professor Leon will receive all the care 
he needs. Try and think of our own situation, 
madam— think of poor, suffering France. We must 
get these papers to Chanzy, if it is possible. What 
worries me is the fact that I know little or nothing 
about the handling of a balloon.” 

He has gone about it in the right vein, by appeal- 
ing to her patriotism; her face loses some of the 
horror that settles there, and she even smiles in a 
wan sort of way. 

“Leave that to me, Captain Tom. I have not 


A TAP ON THE SHOULDER. 


153 


accompanied the professor among the clouds twenty 
times, to remain ignorant. Yes, I will take charge 
of the balloon, for his sake — and for France.” 

“ Hurrah !” cries Mickey, waving his old hat above 
his head — “Joan of Arc has come back to save her 
counthry ! Three cheers for the gineral!” 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

A TAP ON THE SHOULDER. 

Their condition seems more hopeful now that they 
have discovered in their fellow-traveler one who is 
capable of taking the helm, so to speak, or at least 
manipulating the ship of the clouds. All trace of the 
rival balloon has been lost; whether it has been 
destroyed or swept away toward the Belgian 
frontier, it is next to impossible to say. 

Their desire is to drop at some place within the 
boundaries of France, where the dispatches can be 
sent by courier to the general. 

If left to themselves, Captain Tom and Mickey 
would not know how to delay the progress of the 
balloon, but the professor’s wife directs them to 
again lighten the load, so that they may shoot up 
and reach a more favorable current of air. 

Thus they drift along in the sunshine for hours, 
while the war of the elements goes on below. The 
air is cold, and they suffer to some extent from this, 
but it is a dry, bracing atmosphere, entirely differ- 
ent from any they have experienced upon the earth. 

Captain Tom looks at his watch, and discovers 
that it is nearly noon. At the same time he realizes 
that it has been many hours since he tasted food, 
and is actually hungry. There is no neighboring 


154 


A TAP ON THE SHOULDER. 


restaurant to drop upon and supply this aching 
void. What was it the dying professor had said 
about all supplies being on board? Every well-regu- 
lated ship carries provisions on a cruise; it doesn’t 
make any difference whether it sails the air or on 
the sea. 

With the inspiriting thought the adventurous 
soldier of fortune begins to cast about him, and 
speedily discovers a hamper, into which he peers. 
There are certain supplies for the balloon, and a 
small package, which, upon being opened, discloses 
enough edibles for a single decent repast. 

Thus they are provisioned for the time being, and 
a mug of cold tea gives them drink. 

The female aeronaut gently but firmly refuses to 
touch a bite. Captain Tom knows the reason why, 
and his heart reproaches him for the deception he 
has put upon her with respect to the man she loves ; 
he calls himself a brute over and over again, and 
yet dares not undo his work, for much more depends 
upon their safe arrival than the life of one man. 
When France is in the toils, what does one French- 
man’s life represent? 

The storm is passing away below, but it is not 
safe to descend even yet. Captain Tom asks ques- 
tions concerning the manipulation of the balloon, 
not from idle curiosity, but with a motive in view. 
He believes the time will come when he may use the 
knowledge thus attained to good advantage. 

“You see, we are drifting almost west now. The 
upper current will soon control the lower. Already 
the edge of the storm is breaking over the Rhine, 
and before midnight it will be upon Berlin.” 

Thus their guide shows them many things that 
are useful, and Tom does not hesitate to ask ques- 


A TAP ON THE SHOULDER 


155 


tions. The day is declining. Below them the clouds 
are dispersing before a strong westerly wind, and 
glimpses can already be had of the earth. 

Captain Tom, among other things, has come 
across a pair of field-glasses of fair power, and, 
knowing the value of these things from experience, 
he quickly adjusts them to his sight. This makes it 
a pleasure to look down upon the earth— he can 
even see men and women running about and point- 
ing upward, proving that the balloon has been dis- 
covered through openings in the clouds. 

Where are they? Captain Tom has a map of the 
country handy, and spreads it out. Then he again 
surveys the scene. The peasants below undoubtedly 
wear the costume of the French people, but he 
believes they are very near the border. 

Thus he notes the flowing of a river, takes a glance 
at a distant town, marks a railroad destroyed, and 
points out what has undoubtedly been a terrible 
battle-field not many months before. Snow merci- 
fully hides much of the dread work, but enough 
remains to tell the truth. 

“That is Sedan,” says Captain Tom, pointing 
downward, and all look with strange emotions upon 
the field where the last of the Napoleons lost his 
throne. 

What shall they do? To descend now would 
be dangerous, for this part of the country has been 
in the hands of the enemy for some time. Still, they 
cannot remain where they are long, since the cur- 
rent of air will send them on toward the Rhine. 
Should such a thing occur they would have more 
trouble than ever in making their escape, for even 
the peasants would be intensely hostile. 

A hurried consultation ensues, and it is finally 


156 


A TAP ON THE 8H0ULDEX. 


decided to remain as stationary as they can until 
night falls upon the scene, when they will risk all 
by a descent. 

At length the face of the earth is blotted from 
their vision, which gives those unused to the sight 
a queer sensation, for around them the sun still 
shines brightly. 

When the flaming orb finally ducks behind the 
black storm-clouds still scurrying along in the west, 
the guide announces that the time has come for 
their descent. 

This is always perilous, and especially so when 
dropping into inky blackness, with a swift current 
of air in the lower region. It is a strange sensation 
that passes over Captain Tom when the professor’s 
wife opens a valve, and allows a certain amount of 
gas to escape. He had experienced the dreadful mal 
de mer in crossing the English Channel, as even old 
sailors do, and can compare this peculiar qualm to 
nothing else. 

Full directions have been given — the two men 
stand ready to cast over a few sand-bags at the 
proper moment to ease their descent. 

They strain their eyes to see through the inky 
wall of darkness below. Straight almost as a plum- 
met they fall, and Tom realizes why so much gas 
has been allowed to escape when he hears the fierce 
rush of the wind around them. 

But for this the air-ship must have become the 
sport of the atmosphere, and have been carried 
many miles away, if not overturned. 

Almost directly below Captain Tom discovers a 
light, and upon this he keeps his eye. Thus he is 
able to tell when they draw near the earth, where 
the atmosphere is heavier. 


A TAP ON THE SHOULDER. 


157 


“Now!” comes the signal, and over like a shot go 
the weights ; sother follow in their wake, until the 
balloon no longer sinks, but moves along some 
twenty feet or so from the earth. 

Quick as thought Tom tosses the grapnel, attached 
to a long and stout rope, overboard. Presently he 
feels it trail along the ground — now it grasps an 
object — there is a slight shock, and they go swing- 
ing on — it must have been a fence, or something, 
which has given way. 

Again the grapnel clutches hold, and tremendous 
shouts are heard as a terrified peasant is dragged 
along. They call to him to fasten the anchor to 
some tree, but he is too badly frightened, and thinks 
onJy of escape from its clutches. 

At last comes another shock, and this time it 
seems to be permanent. By main strength they 
shorten the rope, for the balloon is not powerful 
enough to worry them. 

Another anchor is cast out, and finally Tom him- 
self slides down the rope to make fast. Thus by 
degrees the air-ship from Paris reaches terra firma 
almost on the border of France. 

By this time several peasants have become bold 
enough to draw near. When they hear the voyagers 
address them in their native tongue, they show new 
interest. Captain Tom believes he can trust these 
people, and tells them that they are from Paris with 
important dispatches that must reach General 
Chanzy at the earliest possible moment. 

Will they assist their compatriots in Paris? Where 
can a good horse be bought? They stand ready to 
pay any reasonable sum for such an animal. 

The white-headed peasant whom Captain Tom 
addresses in this confidential way seems to grasp 


158 


A TAP ON THE SHOULDER. 


the situation, and immediately dispatches a youth 
with hair like tow for a horse from his own stable. 
He gives Tom to understand that his three sons 
have been conscripts in the army, two being now 
dead, and that the cause of France is so dear to him 
that he is ready to sacrifice the other boy, or even 
his own life, in the good work. All the same, he 
eagerly accepts the Napoleons Captain Tom hands 
to him in payment for the horse. Truly, patriotism 
is sometimes combined with thrift. 

The old peasant has news for them — news that 
makes Captain Tom grow anxious. 

Strange though it may seem, the Prussian balloon, 
last noticed in the warring clouds just over the Ger- 
man camps around Paris, has descended not a mile 
away from their location. 

Its descent was tragic, since one of the two occu- 
pants met his death, the other being badly injured, 
as he was dragged along over the ground for some 
distance until the trailing anchor caught in an 
old artillery wheel half-imbedded in the frozen 
earth. 

The balloon collapsed later, but the one living 
voyager, after having his wound dressed, kept scan- 
ning the heavens for signs of the balloon that car- 
ried the French dispatches, and undoubtedly must 
have discovered their presence above. 

All this Tom learns while waiting for the horse to 
arrive. He thus discovers that at any minute it is 
possible for the Germans to come upon them, for 
there are regiments still quartered near Sedan, and 
it must be positively understood by this time that 
the second balloon has come down. 

He inwardly groans, and prays for the coming of 
that horse — that the professor’s wife may escape in 


A TAP ON TEE 8H0ULDEB. 


159 


a way the old peasant suggests. At that time he 
is utterly regardless of himself. 

Later on it will do to remember the personal mat- 
ter that has taken him out of Paris, and pursue his 
plans if the circumstances will allow. 

At last the horse comes. The precious packet is 
hidden on her person by the brave madam. A grasp 
of the hand, a few parting words with the peasant, 
and they hear the sound of her horse’s hoofs upon 
the road no more. She will follow the river some 
forty miles to Verdun, and if the railroad is in oper- 
ation, continue her journey by that means — if not, 
she must trust to fortune, and the patriotism of the 
French people to take her to the presence of General 
Chanzy. 

Captain Tom turns around as the last hoof-stroke 
ceases to be heard. Now he can think of himself and 
what lies ahead. 

He suspects that they have descended close beside 
the wall of a fine old estate, and his questions con- 
firm these things. Before the battle this was one of 
the finest places outside the palace, for the space of 
a hundred miles — now much of it lies in ruins. Here 
the French charged the enemy, who, hidden by 
walls and trees, mowed them down— artillery fire 
was turned upon the house, and the whole place 
made so hot that it no longer sheltered stubborn 
Prussians, with their deadly needle guns. 

Under the cross-questioning of the American one 
fact is brought out— it is something Tom has been 
especially grasping for, and when he seizes it at 
last he feels a glow of triumph pass over his entire 
frame. The owner of this magnificent estate has 
made his own gas, and the peasant distinctly 
remembers the little tank adjoining the retort, being 


160 


A TAP ON THE SHOULDER. 


behind a small rise of ground, has escaped injury 
during the bombardment. 

This is glorious news. No wonder it enthuses Cap- 
tain Tom. It seems as though there might be a 
sweet little cherub aloft looking with a favoring eye 
upon his fortunes. 

He loses no time, but, leaving Mickey in charge 
of the balloon, climbs the broken wall, followed by 
the friendly antique — the peasant who once owned 
a horse which he has sold to the government for 
thirty Napoleons, to be the bearer of dispatches that 
may mean the salvation of France. 

Captain Tom bears no hard feelings. Why should 
he, when this man leads him to the retort, and to 
his everlasting joy he finds the tank more than two- 
thirds full of gas. 

Surely Providence smiles upon him. As it will be 
impossible for him to bring the balloon among the 
trees over the wall, some means must be found by 
which the coveted gas can be conducted to the 
depleted air-ship. 

He has a long and hazardous journey before him 
— more than four hundred miles must be covered 
before he can reach Berlin, and it is positively 
necessary that the balloon, which has already done 
so nobly, should be put in the best possible condi- 
tion in order to win future success. 

Upon mentioning his dilemma to the old peasant, 
the latter opens the lid of a box, and Captain Tom 
fairly hugs himself in delight, for there, disclosed 
by the rude lantern his guide carries, lies a long, 
slender hose, used for some purpose in carrying the 
gas from the tank to another reservoir nearer the 
house. 

He cares not a sou why the hose is here ; he only 


BEYOND TEH RHINE. 


161 


realizes that it serves him like a godsend — meets 
his every requirement. Seizing it, he attaches one 
end to the tank, and leaves word with the peasant 
to turn on the gas when he calls out. Thus he car- 
ries the hose over the wall — it seems as though 
everything must have been arranged to suit his 
circumstances, for he makes sure it will be long 
enough. In less than ten minutes they can be mount- 
ing upward into unknown space. Will that time be 
given to them? 

He fastens the hose, and gives the signal. The 
hissing of the gas can be heard, and the balloon re- 
gains its buoyant shape. Just as Captain Tom is 
chuckling over his success, he feels a tap of author- 
ity upon his shoulder, and turning, faces a giant of 
a German officer, boots, sword, chapeau, and all. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

BEYOND THE RHINE. 

The spectacle is refreshing, to say the least, and 
Captain Tom calmly surveys the officer who has 
touched his arm with such authority. 

He looms up above the American, and upon his 
fat face can be seen a grin of satisfaction, as 
though he realizes that he has taken a prize. 

“The dispatches?” he says, in German, while the 
awed peasants look on in stupefied wonder. 

“I have none,” replies Tom, nonchalantly, and 
his reply appears to anger the Teuton, whose hand 
now clutches his arm. 

“Then you must come with me. You hear? We 
have a rope ready for a spy. You are not French — 
you come out from Paris,” he grunts. 


162 


BEYOND THE RHINE. 


“ That is true— I’ve had enough starvation. I’m 
in search of a square meal,” declares Captain Tom, 
with Philadelphian assurance. 

“ Aha ! that is what we will give you. A royal 
welcome awaits the man who tells us all that hap- 
pens inside the walls of Paris. Herr Bismarck shall 
see you himself — he shall be glad to make your ac- 
quaintance.” 

“Come to think of it, I don’t believe I care to 
make Herr Bismarck’s acquaintance just now. Our 
opinions differ with regard to various things.” 

“Shall you come, rascal?” hotly exclaims the 
German. 

“Not at all, my friend,” coolly replies Tom. 

“ I will shake your teeth out, as a dog shakes a 
rat ! You don’t know me !” 

“ True, we have not been introduced, which shows 
the poor manners of these people. However, I have 
seen about all of you I care to. Take notice, Mr. 
Officer, that I have something grasped in my right 
hand with which I cover your stupid head. One 
pressure of the finger, and you will measure your six 
feet two upon the ground. They will dig you a grave 
here. Hark ye, man, be so good as to remove your 
hand from my arm— your grasp has become dused 
unpleasant.” 

The huge Bavarian officer hears and under- 
stands, for his eyes have looked into the loaded 
chambers of a revolver before now. There is some- 
thing about the American that tells him to beware — 
that the other will keep his word and send him over 
the dark river into eternity with little compunction 
if he dares to disobey. 

“ My men— they are not far away. If I call, they 
will come like a whirlwind,” he mutters. 


BEYOND THE RHINE , 


163 


His words have little effect on Tom, who sneers 
at his obtuseness. 

“ I believe you, my good fellow ; but what would 
that avail you? They arrive in one minute, which 
is good time for such slow coaches as Bavarians— 
they find you lying here with a hole in your foolish 
head, while we are shooting far up into the sky, 
safe.” 

The huge officer growls a hearty curse. 

This tells Captain Tom that he has given in to fate. 

Every moment is precious, for there can be no 
telling when some of his men may fall upon the 
scene, and even the presence of one fellow with his 
needle-gun might destroy the balloon, and make 
their position desperate. 

“Mickey McCray !” he calls out. 

“On deck, captain dear,” comes a soft voice. 

“Sergeant, do your duty, search this man for. 
weapons, and confiscate any fire-arms.” 

“Sure, I’m wantin’ some meself, and I’ll do it 
with the greatest of pleasure.” 

The Bavarian would resist, but a stern word from 
his captor convinces him that such a move would 
not be conducive to health. Captain Tom has in- 
fluenced him, as he does all with whom he comes in 
contact — convinced him that he means exactly what 
he says. 

There is a great deal in this personality. 

So the Irishman does his duty, and, knowing the 
value of time, makes quick work of it. He finds 
one revolver upon the Bavarian, which he con- 
fiscates. 

“Now,” says Captain Tom, when he sees that the 
search is over, “ start him going, Mickey, and then 
jump into the basket.” 


164 


BEYOND THE RHINE. 


No sooner said than done. The Irishman grasps 
hold of the big Bavarian, and whirls him right 
about face. His manner is enough to tell the giant 
what comes next. 

“ Git, ye rascal ! make tracks now it is, or by me 
grandfather's ghost, IT1 walk over yees,” and as he 
thus ejaculates, the man from Erin urges the officer 
on by means of several well-directed kicks. 

Aided by his fears and this battering-ram in the 
rear, the Bavarian starts on a run, all the while bel- 
lowing out hasty orders to his men in a jargon that 
is almost unintelligible, until finally his long sword 
becomes tangled up in his fat legs, and the giant 
makes earth almost tremble with the violence of 
his fall. 

Our friends have not waited for this, however. 
Captain Tom springs at once into the car of the bal- 
loon, and drawing a knife, stands ready to cut loose 
at the proper moment, for the air-ship has been 
secured by ropes instead of the anchor that held it 
at the descent. 

Mickey loses no time, but as soon as he sees the 
tall Bavarian started on the down grade, his arms 
sawing the air like the old-fashioned wild-mills of 
Holland, he turns and makes for the basket, this 
time managing his entrance better than on the for- 
mer occasion. 

“Ready to cut loose, sergeant,” comes from Tom. 

“ Give the word, captain dear, and it's mesilf ” 

“ Now !” 

Captain Tom waits until he feels that Mickey has 
freed his side of the balloon, and then, quick as a 
flash, his keen blade severs the stout rope. They 
shoot upward as though sent from a gun. 

“ Parbleu /” shrieks the old peasant, in a deliri- 


BEYOND THE BHINE. 


165 


um of joy at seeing them defeat the enemy who 
has long held the natives down by the nose. 

“Good-night, friends,” calls the American. 

They can hear the huge Bavarian howling to his 
men to hasten — ordering them to fire at the balloon, 
but mixing things up in such a ridiculous manner 
that it is really a wonder they do not take him at 
his word and give him a volley. 

These sounds grow fainter as the balloon cleaves 
the atmosphere and mounts upward. Besides, they 
get the benefit of the strong south-westerly breeze 
that follows in the wake of the storm. 

This is so violent that Captain Tom concludes to 
seek a milder sphere, and allows the balloon to con- 
tinue rising. 

When the instrument indicates a height of two 
miles they find themselves in a gentle wind that 
seems to bear them in the direction desired. Satis- 
fied, they float on. 

Sounds from below have long since ceased to 
reach their ears, and all that can be heard is the 
vibration of some cord attached to the balloon. A 
strange sensation it is truly, this floating above the 
world, but Captain Tom grows accustomed to a 
novelty very soon, and to see him manage the air- 
ship one would readily believe him to be an experi- 
enced aeronaut. 

The atmosphere is clear below them, and they can 
see clusters of lights now and then that indicate the 
presence of some town. They do not seem to care 
much for sleep, at least hours pass by while they 
drift, and neither has as yet expressed a desire for 
slumber. 

The soldier is studying the situation, watching 
the air-currents, and noting how his ship is carried 


166 


BEYOND THE BRINE. 


along. He is overjoyed when, by the aid of the 
stars, he makes out that they are heading almost 
directly for the German capital. Truly, it is better 
to be born lucky than rich. 

His thoughts naturally roam ahead — he wonders 
where Linda and her charge may be. Will he follow 
them to Berlin? What a strange freak of fortune 
that has thrown this chance in his way, and yet, 
after all, how naturally it all comes about. 

Finally he feels his lids get heavy, and leaving 
Mickey in charge, with positive instructions to 
arouse him should anything out of the common run 
transpire, he settles down for a few hours’ nap. The 
balloon has hardly a motion — such easy traveling 
Captain Tom has never experienced on land or sea, 
and he speculates upon the good time coming, when 
all travelers may sail by air-ships. Thus he falls 
asleep. 

At the proper time Mickey arouses him and gets 
a bit of a nap himself before dawn comes. 

The first thing that greets their eyes upon looking 
down at the earth is a river — it is rather tortuous in 
its course, and presents a remarkably picturesque 
appearance, even when seen with snow upon the 
ground. 

“The historic Rhine,” remarks Tom, who has in 
times past floated for scores of miles upon the bosom 
of this same river, from Strasburg to Cologne. 

With its palaces, castles, picturesque inns, mon- 
asteries, and cottages embowered in shrubbery, the 
Rhine has no equal in the world for scenery. Its 
memory haunts the traveler wherever he roams, 
and however weary he may be with picture-galler- 
ies, churches, and such sights, the thought of the 


BEYOND THE RHINE. 


167 


storied Rhine always comes to him like an inspiring 
breath of air. 

They drift across. 

It is indeed a strange journey to take, from Paris 
to Berlin by balloon, and especially so in war times, 
when railroad travel is almost impossible except 
one is armed with potent passes from the powers 
that be. 

Their slow drifting, that has only carried them a 
hundred miles in ten hours, becomes a thing of the 
past, for with the rising of the sun they seem to 
reach a current of air that drives them on with the 
speed of an express train. 

How exhilarating it all is ! The panorama spread 
out below them like a great map is constantly 
changing. 

After crdssing the Rhine they see a few towns 
and villages. Then comes a dense forest, dark and 
forbidding. Captain Tom thinks of the fabled Hartz 
Mountains and the Black Forest, about which so 
many German legends have been woven. 

It is about an hour before noon when Mickey 
calls his attention to the sun glinting upon the 
water of another river. This must be the Weser. 
They make fine progress, and Captain Tom’s heart 
beats high with hope. He has always made it a 
point to succeed in everything he undertakes, and 
begins to have high hopes of saving the girl he 
loves. At the same time he frankly admits that 
much credit must be due the favoring winds that 
have wafted them on their way. About two o’clock 
they find themselves nearer the earth than before. 
This does not come from any dropping of the bal- 
loon, which steadily sails on. 

It is because the nature of the ground has 


168 


BEYOND THE RHINE. 


changed, and they are now really above the famous 
Hartz Mountains. Captain Tom has one fear — some 
hunter may put a bullet through the great silk bag 
above, and once the gas finds even a minute outlet, 
it will rush to escape, with the result that a fearful 
split follows, and then — well, they will go into eter- 
nity with lightning speed. 

He dares take no risk in this thing, so out go a 
few more sand-bags, and the balloon rises. They 
know the Elbe River lies not more than thirty or 
forty miles beyond, and hence keep on the lookout 
for this broad stream, beyond which is Berlin. 

It is almost dark when they see the river far 
below them. Eagerly Tom looks to the north, and 
utters a cry of satisfaction. 

“Do you see those lights, Mickey?” he asks. 

“A city it is, sure.” 

“ Magdeburg on the Elbe. Old fellow, we’ve come 
from Paris almost as straight as the crow flies.” 

“And whin do we r’ach Berlin?” 

“A few hours more. Let me study my map. I 
don’t want to make any mistake.” 

Darkness falls, and finds them speeding on with 
their wonderful steed just as fresh as at the start. 

Not a word is spoken now. 

Captain Tom stands and watches— he has allowed 
a small portion of gas to escape, and they have 
descended until they are now not more than half a 
mile above the earth, which lies there wrapped in 
mysterious darkness. 

Thus far fortune has indeed been kind, and even 
the winds have been tempered to their necessity. In 
a sudden storm the inexperienced aeronaut might 
have done the wrong thing, and by a single mistake 
have sent himself and companion to a cruel death. 


BEYOND THE RHINE. 


169 


Thank Heaven, such an emergency has not arisen, 
and they are now nearing the end of the strangest 
journey on record, without an accident to mar its 
success. 

The American is indeed grateful for the great 
favor shown. It gives him cause for hope that the 
future may also be favored with success. 

They draw near a city— lights gleam brightly 
ahead, and Tom gravely announces : 

“All out for Potsdam!” 

“Say, do we change cars here?” calls Mickey. 

“Keep your seats for Berlin. All aboard!” 

They rush over Potsdam, and on again into the 
darkness beyond. 

“Be the holy smoke, therq goes a train! IPs a 
race between us, so it is!” cries Mickey, calling the 
attention of his companion to a line of lights off to 
the left, that seems to be moving in the same direc- 
tion as themselves. 

“I wonder,” says Tom, jokingly, “whether that’s 
the lightning express from Paris. It would be quite 
a joke if we beat it in.” 

Many a truth is spoken in jest, and Captain Tom 
little suspects that the train whose lights he so care- 
lessly watches bears a being very precious to him 
in one of the numerous compartments — the very 
girl for whose sake he is even now risking his own 
life in an invasion of hostile territory. Such are the 
freaks of fate. 

“Look yonder,” calls out the aeronaut. 

“ I see more lights. Sure, it’s a great city that 
lies beyond,” says Mickey, in some excitement. 

“That is our destination, my boy — Berlin! All 
hands ready to make a landing!” 

Captain Tom knows what danger lies before him, 


170 


POOR FRANZ. 


and he gives plain directions as to what shall be 
done. The sand-bags are held in readiness to go 
overboard, also the grappling-iron. Then he pulls 
the cord, as directed by the professor’s wife. 


CHAPTER XX. 

POOR FRANZ. 

Down goes the balloon with a rush— a hissing 
noise tells that the gas is escaping, and Captain 
Tom, feeling that their descent is rapid enough, 
allows the valve to close. Then he grasps a sand- 
bag in one hand and the grapnel in the other, strain- 
ing his eyes to see what sort of region they are 
about to drop upon. 

When he gives the word, Mickey relieves the bal- 
loon of much weight, so that the downward rush 
becomes a gentle settling. Then out goes the anchor, 
and speedily takes hold. 

In less than five minutes they are upon the 
ground. Captain Tom has decided upon his course. 
A lamp cannot be hidden under a bushel, and if the 
balloon remains here, inflated, all Berlin will know 
by morning that strange voyagers are in their 
midst. 

He understands a trick or two, and without delay 
allows all the gas to escape from the great bag, 
which, when collapsed, almost fits in the basket or 
car. If this can be secreted now, all will be well, 
and the evidence of their arrival will not be appar- 
ent. 

Tom leaves Mickey with the balloon, and starts 
upon a tour of investigation. He finds near-by some 
straw stacks, and one of these promises an asylum 


POOR FRANZ. 


171 


for the air-ship. At present his sole idea is to hide 
it, for he does not dream he will ever again sail the 
azure skies as an aeronaut. 

Back again to Mickey he hastens, and between 
them, by hard work, they manage to get the balloon 
to the straw stack. 

Here an hour is spent in systematically secreting 
their faithful air-ship, during which time they are 
annoyed by a little cur that persists in standing afar 
off and barking. 

Both feel the effect of their long fast, and some- 
thing to eat must be obtained before they can pro- 
ceed to business. A light shines from a cabin near 
by, and thither the two daring invaders make their 
way. 

“Leave it all with me,” says Captain Tom. 

His object is to avoid doing anything that will 
bring them to the attention of the police. When 
upon the Western prairies of his own native coun- 
try, Tom has more than once fought fire with fire. 
He believes in the remedy. To effectually prevent 
this cottager from communicating with the police, 
he will pretend to be a member of Berlin’s “finest,” 
and such is the fear felt by the common people for 
the secret agents of the government that the rack 
would hardly cause the man to betray him. 

Before knocking on the door he takes a survey 
through the window. An humble peasant and his 
wife are seen. The man looks stupid, but the cot- 
tage has a thrifty appearance, and the hungry Yan- 
kee smacks his lips as he sees the array of provis- 
ions the good wife has stowed away in a peculiar 
dresser at one end of the room. 

He immediately makes up his mind that nothing 
short of an earthquake or the sudden appearance 


172 


POOR FRANZ. 


of a German troop will cause him to forego an 
assault upon that well-stocked larder. 

With the butt of his revolver he knocks upon the 
door of the cottage. The sound alarms the couple 
within, and it is the woman who finally answers the 
summons. 

When the door is opened Captain Tom marches in, 
followed by his faithful shadow, both with an ex- 
tremely military step. The cottager, amazed, stands 
and trembles— his mouth is open, and his whole ex- 
pression indicates sudden fear. 

“Your name?” demands Captain Tom, who is an 
excellent German student, and as he speaks he 
draws out a formidable document. 

“Franz Schleisenger,” the poor devil manages to 
stammer out, his eyes glued upon the paper, as 
though he imagines it is his death-warrant. 

“Just so,” nods the strange visitor; “here it is in 
plain black and white. I am ordered to search your 
cottage for concealed weapons, bombs, printing- 
presses, anything, everything that can be used by 
the accursed Socialists to injure the government. In 
a word, my good man, you are under suspicion. I 
am an officer of the Secret Service of King Wilhelm. 
I will search your house. If I find anything suspi- 
cious, you and your frow shall sleep in a dungeon. 
On the other hand, if you are innocent, I shall so 
report you at headquarters. Lead on !” 

His looks, his manner, are imperious— no wonder 
the wretched Franz cowers before him. The good 
wife is twice the man he ever pretends to be. She 
smiles upon the formidable agent of the govern- 
ment. These people fear their rulers much more 
than they love them. 

“Franz has no heart. Look to me— I am the head 


POOR FRANZ. 


173 


of this house. I will show you about, but you will 
find nothing — absolutely nothing.” 

Nevertheless, Captain Tom makes the search, but 
it is a very short one. The woman, who is young 
and comely, smiles to think that her blandishments 
have made a friend out of this government officer, 
who could at least have given them much trouble 
had he wished. Her stupid husband grins and 
frowns by turns— the latter when he sees the auda- 
cious inspector chuck his comely wife under the 
chin in a familiar way as he compliments her upon 
such a thrifty home. 

“ I shall be sure to speak a good word for you, 
Franz. You are doubly blessed in keeping aloof 
from these fire-brands of Socialists, and in the com- 
pany of so handsome a wife. If I had time I would 
happily sit down and take a bite with you here, for 
my business has not allowed me to eat any supper, 
and I am sure so good a housewife must cook to per- 
fection.” 

Artfully done. With true German hospitality, 
Franz and his wife beseech them to tarry and sup 
with them — the former because it pleases him to be 
on good terms with a member of the secret police, 
and his wife — well, Captain Tom’s flattery has won 
her heart. 

The Yankee pretends to consult with his assist- 
ant, who all the while fingers his hat in an agony 
of mind lest his captain may decide that they are in 
too much haste. Then Tom looks over his docu- 
ments, nods his head, and smiles in his cheery way. 

“We will stay,” he announces, whereat the cot- 
tager and his wife begin to set the table. 

What they place upon it makes the mouths of the 
hungry men water, plain food though it is. They 


174 


POOR FRANZ. 


have not seen such a spread for months, thanks to 
the army that besieges Paris. 

Soon they go at it with avidity. The good woman’s 
eyes open as she watches her viands disappear, but 
Tom does not forget he has a tongue that can pour 
oil on troubled water, and to the very end, though 
her husband sits there aghast at the slaughter, she 
continues to press one thing and another on her 
guests. 

Mickey has not spoken a word — simply because 
he is unable to speak German — but his companion 
informs the woman, as has been agreed upon be- 
tween them, that his assistant is dumb. 

All things must have an end, and when the two 
adventurers have fully satisfied the demands of 
their appetites they arise. The next thing is to 
enter the city. At such an hour a pass-word may 
be necessary, for all Germany is in a measure 
under military rule while this life and death strug- 
gle with France goes on. 

“Assure me of your loyalty to the government 
once more. You have heard the pass-word that per- 
mits you to enter the city?” 

The man, eager to show that he is of some con- 
sequence, at once replies : 

“ ‘The Watch on the Rhine !’” 

“Good! I am satisfied. Madame Schleisenger, 
allow me to pay you for our entertainment. It is in 
French money— since Sedan there is plenty of it 
floating round, and there will be more before we are 
done with those frog-eaters.” 

She protests, and yet accepts the Napoleon. Fru- 
gal people are these folks of the Fatherland. 

The two travelers are now ready to depart, and 
Captain Tom congratulates himself that they have 


POOR FRANZ. 


175 


secured the much-needed supper without having 
aroused any suspicions to the effect that they are 
other than they seem. 

“A word of caution, my good people, at parting. 
There are others under suspicion — they may be 
your neighbors. Keep silent about this visit. It will 
pay you to whisper it to no one. Good-night.” 

With this they depart, and Captain Tom throws 
back a kiss to the comely frow, which Franz pre- 
tends is meant for him, as he returns it, stepping in 
front of his wife. The last glimpse they have of 
them, poor Franz is rudely thrust aside, while his 
better-half stands on the cottage steps waving them 
farewell, and blowing innumerable kisses from the 
tips of her fat fingers. 

Mickey has had hard work to conceal his merri- 
ment, and when Captain Tom removes the stopper, 
fearing he will burst with suppressed steam, the 
Irishman bends over and shakes like an aspen leaf. 

He believes the man who can manipulate an affair 
like that need not fear the whole of Berlin, and 
Mickey never once questions the ultimate success 
of the project that brings them here to the heart of 
the German country. 

Berlin, nestled upon the river Spree, lies before 
them. What strange adventures may they not 
experience ere they leave behind them the gay capi- 
tal of the German world? 

Fortunately Captain Tom has been here before, 
and is quite at home. He has even spent months in 
the art galleries, the tea-gardens, churches, concert 
gardens, and upon the streets of Berlin, watching 
the throngs that pass over the fifty bridges span- 
ning the river Spree. 

This knowledge promises to be very helpful to 


176 


POOP FRANZ. 


them at this time, when all their energies must be 
devoted to the work in hand. 

Although Berlin is really an inland city, she has 
the small river Spree for commerce. Besides, canals 
connect with the Elbe on one hand, and the Oder 
on the other, so that the queen of German cities is 
not badly off with regard to water communication. 

When Captain Tom was last here it was in the 
piping times of peace, but he knows what it means 
to be on a war footing, and, as we have seen, he 
prepared for it when he forced the pass-word from 
the ignorant Franz. 

As at Paris, the city gates are closed at a certain 
hour, and no one can pass in or out without the 
proper countersign. Still it is probable that a man 
as versatile as Captain Tom would find some other 
means of securing the pass-word, even if he had to 
creep up close to the gates, and wait until some one 
came along to give it to the guard. 

They walk along the firm road which Tom has 
reason to believe will lead them to the city. The 
American is not without a plan of action, and has 
already made up his mind what he shall do when 
once within the shelter of the walls. 

He is not friendless in Berlin, and can, he be- 
lieves, depend upon one person to aid him, unless 
accident has befallen Carl Reuter since last he 
looked him in the face. 

Ah ! now they are near the gates of the metropo- 
lis. What if the words given by Franz be false— a 
nice pickle they will find themselves in, to be 
sure. 

Tom’s motto at present is “no risks.” So they soon 
lie in wait within hearing of the guards, who laugh 
and joke each other, glad perhaps that they are 


‘EVEN THE WALLS HAVE EARS IN BERLIN : 


177 


looking after the interests of Berlin rather than 
facing death in the rifle-pits around Paris. 

Then some fellow shuffles up and tries to pass 
beyond the gates, but being unable to give the magic 
word, he is hustled off to the guard-house without 
ceremony, on suspicion. 

Captain Tom gives his companion a dig in the 
ribs, as if to draw his attention to what must be 
their fate if they fail to pass. 

Presently a man appears driving a donkey in a 
little cart — the guards know him well, as he takes 
vegetables and eggs into the city every day, but 
their training causes them to go through with the 
same formula, which would be put to a general if 
he happened to come along. 

Thus the two figures crouching near catch the 
answer the man in the cart gives. It is : 

“The Watch on the Rhine!” 

Those inspiriting words have sent the German 
armies forward to victory in this campaign— it will 
ever after be a national song. 

There is no more need of delay. The two balloon 
adventurers, who have come all the way from Paris 
with but one stop, are now ready to enter the gates 
of Berlin, hospitably opened to receive them. Per- 
haps they may find it more difficult to get out than 
it is to get in. Much depends on their actions while 
guests of Berlin. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

“EVEN THE WALLS HAVE EARS IN BERLIN.” 
They are in Berin at last. 

The magic words have admitted them without a 
question, though Mickey declares the officer of the 


178 “EVEN THE WALLS HA VE EAIiS IN BERLIN .” 

guard looked at him very sternly, and has a dim 
recollection of having met the man before some- 
where, under peculiar circumstances, though for 
the life of him he cannot remember where or when 
the meeting took place. 

“I may think of it later; it doesn’t matter a bit, 
we’re inside now,” he remarks. 

Perhaps he may change his mind and decide that 
it does matter a great deal; but, “where ignorance 
is bliss, ’tis folly to be wise,” and the Irishman is 
happy in his lack of knowledge. 

As is quite natural, Captain Tom heads for the 
most prominent strasse in the city. When one 
desires to see the throbbing pulses of the great 
metropolis, a straight course is steered for the mag- 
nificent avenue known as Unter den Linden. It is 
only about a mile long, with the palace at one end 
and the Brandenburg gate at the other, but of 
majestic width, and with trees shading the walks in 
the summer time, bordered with the finest houses in 
Berlin, this avenue is a sight to see and never to be 
forgotten. 

When they turn into this avenue, Captain Tom 
heads in the direction of the palace. The house that 
possesses the deepest interest for him is not more 
than two stones’-throw away from the great build- 
ings where Wilhelm resides, the King of Prussia, 
whose dream it is to form an empire of all the Ger- 
man States, and thus rule all Germany. 

The hour is not late, and the night clear and 
bracing, so that throngs can be seen upon the pave- 
ment. Berlin complacently reads the news from 
Paris, and knows that ere many days are gone the 
proud city of the Gauls, which was once under the 
wonderful Napoleon, the chief of the world, will be 


'EVEN THE WALLS HAVE EARS IN BERLIN: 


179 


in the hands of the German Army. Their time of 
triumph is close at hand, and upon nearly every 
face a smile is seen. 

There are foreigners in Berlin at this time, plenty 
of them, so that the presence of our two comrades 
does not attract unusual attention. 

They have a queer feeling when they compare 
this sleek-looking, well-fed crowd with the anxious, 
pale citizens recently seen upon the Champs Ely- 
sees, or pushing along the streets of the Faubourg 
St. Honore. 

The thought of Paris makes Tom sad ; he has a 
deep, genuine affection for the French capital, and 
a love for the people. The terrible situation has not 
fully come upon him until now, when he looks 
around to see all the evidences of plenty and com- 
fort, and compares the prospect with what lies in 
the past. 

In the shadow of the immense statue of Frederick 
the Great, the two men pause. Captain Tom has 
had a whiff of a fair cigar, and can stand it no 
longer. He secretly counts over his money, and 
finds to his joy that he has, among other pieces in 
his pocket, a German coin. That silver groschen 
will get him a weed. Joy! He demands of Mickey 
where he saw the nearest cigar shop. As all Ger- 
many smokes incessantly, tobacco is sold in many 
places, and one can be supplied with as good a weed 
as anywhere in the world, though they run rather 
dark and heavy, to suit the taste of the people. 
Spain is the only place your light smoker can have 
his particular bill filled, for there the natives dote 
on cigarettes and mild tobacco with a wonderful 
fragrance. 

Tom soon plunges into a shop, and joins his com- 


180 “EVEN THE WALLS HAVE EARS IN BERLIN .” 

panion, puffing vigorously at a cigar, a look of con- 
tentment on his face. 

“This is bliss!” he murmurs. “I tell you it is solid 
satisfaction, Mickey. I invested more than I ex- 
pected— see, here’s a package of loose stuff for 
your pipe. No more villainous stems ground up — 
take it, and be happy.” 

Mickey utters a low cry, eagerly tears open the 
packet, fills his pipe, and applies a match. 

There were men in Paris during the siege who 
suffered more from the scarcity of good tobacco 
than they did from food. Such is the result of habit. 

Feeling a thousand per cent, better, the two men 
again saunter along. Their actions are deliberate, 
for they want to excite no suspicion. To attract 
attention is the last thing they are desirous of doing. 

Captain Tom is well posted, and he knows when 
he comes opposite the house for which he is all eyes. 
His eyes run over the building. Like the majority 
of houses in Berlin, Dresden, and other German 
cities, its front is stuccoed, and the lower or ground 
floor used for business purposes. 

Above, the floors are divided into what in France 
gr New York would be called flats. 

Here they go under the name of etage, and run 
upward in rents as one ascends. In Berlin it is not 
unusual to live over a store, and many of the fash- 
ionables have their homes over places of business. 
In New York this would kill one’s standing in soci- 
ety, but across the Rhine they have other means of 
gauging one’s place in the social scale besides the 
house you live in. 

Having made sure that this is the building, Cap- 
tain Tom turns his eyes on the first etage. Lights are 
seen there. The sight of them thrills him through 


EVEN TEE WALLS HAVE EARS IN BERLIN 181 

and through. Unless he has made a mistake with 
regard to the house, Linda Dubois has reached Ber- 
lin. That means a great deal to him. 

To make it positive is now his first desire, and 
leaving Mickey again to watch the passers-by, he 
saunters into the store under the flats. It is a fancy 
grocery, and the proprietor is a stout, pleasant-faced 
man. Tom ignores a clerk, and saunters up to the 
head party, when a little conversation in high Ger- 
man ensues between them, which might be trans- 
lated thus : 

“ Good-evening, sir. I am an American, stopping 
with my family at the Hotel Royale ; and as business 
will be apt to take me away, I desire to find a fur- 
nished etage where my folks may be comfortable 
through the summer. Price no object.” 

The man of business smiles and nods. 

“ I do not comprehend why you come to me, myn- 
herr—I do not rent or sell.” 

“Very true; but you know every person in the 
neighborhood— they all deal with you, of course” — 
this makes his listener very proud, for it is a select 
quarter— “ and you might be apt to know of any 
vacancies. They do things differently here from 
what I’m used to. I had a friend in Berlin, a Made- 
moiselle Linda Dubois ; but to my sorrow, I found 
upon arriving that she was away, and had been for 
months.” 

Ah ! how the unwary Teuton’s face lights up. He 
puts his hand on Tom’s shoulder. 

“Mynherr, joy! The lady you mention is no 
longer abroad. She has returned home— this very 
night she came, looking as lovely as ever, and that, 
you know, is saying a great deal,” 


182 “EVEN THE WALLS HAVE EARS IN BERLIN . ” 

“How know you this?” asks Tom, seemingly in 
great surprise, the arch villain. 

“ Mynherr, the lady has the first etage above this 
store; she stood where you are, not one hour since, 
and told me to send up many things in haste, that 
they were starved.” 

“They? Then this lady was not alone?” 

“ She had a young f raulein with her — I have seen 
her before, I believe, though I thought Myra was 
nearly blind.” 

He has said it. Captain Tom’s heart thumps 
against his ribs with excitement. Meta is here — she 
has come all the way from Paris with the plotting 
Linda, never dreaming that the other is laying a 
snare for her feet. 

Tom mutters something about seeing the lady on 
the morrow, when she is rested ; and then, thanking 
the proprietor of the store, he passes out. 

Mickey hovers near, happy in being able to blow 
blue clouds of genuine tobacco-smoke above his 
head. This pleasure has been denied him so long 
that the aromatic taste of the weed is very sweet. 

One thing Tom fears— he has so much foreign 
money on his person that if he tries to pass it right 
and left, suspicions may be aroused. He must seek 
a money-changer and put some of it into German 
notes and coin. 

Here again his previous acquaintance with the 
city serves him well. Dodging down a certain nar- 
row street, he quickly reaches a place where he has 
had dealings in the past. 

The man remembers him as a profitable customer, 
and from this Polish Jew Captain Tom secures all 
the change he will need for some time. 

Again outside, he hails one of the hackney dros- 


“EVEN THE WALLS HAVE EARS IN BERLIN' 


183 


kies that rattle along, makes a bargain with the 
driver to take them to a certain number on a strasse 
called Grun, and away they go. 

Captain Tom is in deep reflection while they move 
along with a motion that would probably excite 
derision in the mind of a New York cabby, for in 
Berlin no one ever seems to be in haste ; there is 
plenty of time for doing everything — life is too short 
to hurry. 

At length, when Tom’s second cigar is just about 
burned out, the vehicle draws up. They have 
reached their destination. Before dismissing cabby, 
Captain Tom means to see if his friend still resides 
here ; in case the result is a negative one he will 
have to go to some hotel ; the du Nord used to be 
his favorite in times gone by. 

He chuckles to think this is not Russia, where the' 
traveler is compelled to hand over his passport to 
the proprietor at the time of taking board, and as 
he cannot go away without this important docu- 
ment, the hotel people have a dead sure thing on 
payment. Should such a system have come in vogue 
here since the war began, our friends can hardly 
expect accommodations at a hotel. 

He gives the knocker on the door a brisk rat-tat, 
and the sound reverberates through the house. 
Somehow he feels as though the building must be 
empty, the noise is so loud, but no, a light appears, 
some one unfastens a chain at the door, and the 
next moment Carl is before him. 

Tom has his hand in an instant— they are old 
friends, and Carl owes his life to the quick wits of 
the American. It is a long story, connected with a 
gang of bandits in Corsica, and need not be told 
here, but Carl has never forgotten. 


184 'EVEN THE WALLS HA VE EARS IN BERLIN .” 

Knowing that he is sure of a welcome, Captain 
Tom waves his arm. Mickey recognizes the signal, 
and dismisses the driver of the hackney drosky. 
They need him no more. 

All are soon within the house. Carl endeavors to 
seem glad to have Captain Tom as his guest, but 
the keen eyes of the Yankee from Philadelphia dis- 
cerns the fact that he is uneasy. Why should this 
be so? Is he aware of Tom’s sympathy with France, 
and does he suspect that the other is in Berlin on 
some desperate mission? 

The American looks deeper, and soon guesses 
that it is on account of his own affairs that Carl, 
usually so genial, looks troubled. 

With an effort, he chases this feeling away, and 
begs Tom to relate his adventures, for he knows the 
other has something to tell. 

Nothing loth, the American branches out. He is 
a good story-teller, and can invest an adventure 
with much interest, although modest in all that 
relates to his own prowess. The brave are never 
braggarts. 

So he tells all that has happened since last he 
saw Carl Reuter, who of course is greatly interested 
in what concerns the siege of Paris and the doings 
of his old friend. 

When the narrator reaches the dramatic scene 
where he cuts loose with the balloon, Carl’s face 
lights up with sudden joy ; to the surprise of Tom, 
he detects a fierce light there. Still the German stu- 
dent says nothing, but smokes away at his pipe in 
the phlegmatic manner of his race, although it is 
evident he is thinking deeply. 

At the conclusion of Tom’s story, he bends over 
and seizes his hand in a fierce grip. 


“EVEN THE WALLS HAVE EARS IN BERLIN' 


185 


“ A wonderful time you have had, my friend. I 
quite envy you. How we would have enjoyed that 
trip together. You say the balloon is safe and unin- 
jured at the straw stacks of Franz Schleisenger. I 
know him well. That is good. An idea enters my 
mind. You may hear more of it in the future. Just 
now tell me your plans.” 

Captain Tom trusts Carl with everything; he 
knows the other, though a singular fellow, is as 
true as steel. Their meeting some years back at the 
university was peculiar, and somehow quite a friend- 
ship sprang up between them. Lately they again 
met in Corsica, and together defeated the plans of 
would-be bandits. 

He tells Carl what his hopes are ; if Meta can be 
warned she may fly with him. At any rate, she 
must be saved. 

Carl shakes his head several times, as though he 
has hard knots to unravel. What can he be think- 
in about? Captain Tom knows the man well, and 
begins to suspect something. Can Carl have been 
getting himself in trouble since last they sauntered 
along Unter den Linden. 

He knows the nature of these German students — 
they are inclined to be wild and reckless. Russia is 
always on the verge of an outbreak through her 
students, who, being young men, seem to have a 
desire for greater liberty than the statutes of their 
country allow. 

What if Carl lias entered into one of the deep and 
dark plots which occasionally startle the civilized 
world? It is not unlikely. He has always been a 
ventursome spirit, and there is an underground cur- 
rent in Germany which ordinary eyes never see— 
where desperate men, and women, too, are bound 


186 “EVEN THE WALLS HAVE EARS IN BERLIN.” 

by fearful oaths to accomplish some desired object, 
whether it be the death of the reigning ruler, or the 
annihilation of some obnoxious officer. 

Tom is nothing if not frank, and when this idea 
gets into his head, he cannot rest until he has it out 
with Carl. So he bluntly asks his student friend 
what hangs heavy on his mind. 

Carl laughs in a forced way. 

“Your eyes are as keen as ever, Mynherr Tom. 
There is no concealing anything from you. Know, 
then, that to-morrow morning I am about to engage 
in a duel.” 

“Bah! that does not disturb you, Carl. You have 
been concerned in too many,” laughs Tom. 

“ But this time it is with swords, and I am but a 
poor swordsman at best.” 

“Well, here am L In an hour I can teach you 
three tricks, any one of which is warranted to 
deceive your antagonist, providing he is not a mar- 
vel in the art of self-defense.” 

Carl’s whole expression changes; joy beams from 
his face, and in a moment he has thrown himself 
upon Tom with an embrace. 

“ Do this, my friend — show me how I may kill this 
man, and you earn my double gratitude. It is his 
life or mine!” he cries. 

“Oh, oh!” thinks Tom, “a love affair— rivals, no 
doubt,” for he cannot imagine anything else affect- 
ing Carl so. 

“I think we will have no trouble about that. You 
are an apt pupil, Carl. Consider the thing done, 
and your honor vindicated. But tell me, who is the 
lady?” 

“Eh?” 

“ For of course there is a lady connected with this 


THE FENCING DEN IN THE GRUN 8TRAS8E 


187 


affair — who ever knew it to be otherwise?” and Tom, 
who has had considerable experience in the ways of 
the world, nods sagely. 

“There is no lady in this matter,” declares Carl. 

“What! Then this man is not a rival?” 

“Not so.” 

“Then, in the name of all that’s wonderful, how 
is it you hate him so bitterly? How has he injured 
you so that you long for his death? Come, I am 
curious — you know I am as dumb as an oyster, 
Carl, and Mickey here — why, a crowbar couldn’t 
open his bull-dog jaws. Speak !” 

The German student glares about him and bends 
his head nearer, while he mutters : 

“Even the walls have ears in Berlin. The man I 
fight is a notorious police spy — he suspects, and he 
is doomed — I was selected for the work — he had the 
choice of weapons, which was unfortunate. If I 
fall, the next will take it up. Now, my friend, you 
understand!” 


CHAPTER XXII. 

THE FENCING DEN IN THE GRUN STRASSE. 

Yes, Captain Tom grasps the situation — he real- 
izes that Carl Reuter, with the impetuous manner 
that characterizes the German student, has joined 
some inner circle of Socialists, who are perhaps in 
sympathy with the Nihilists of Russia, and seek to 
overthrow the reigning power. In the land of the 
White Czar, there have of late been a number of 
tremendous upheavals — men and women high in the 
confidence of the powers that be have been detected 
plotting the destruction of the ruler, and bombs 
have been exploded even in the Winter Palace. 


188 THE FENCING DEN IN THE GRUN STRASSE. 

All through Europe a spirit of discontent under- 
lies the fair surface— it is like the slumbering vol- 
cano, ready to burst out at any time. Tom knows 
full well there will soon be a terrible reign of blood 
in Paris— perhaps the plotters in Berlin aim to stir 
up a rebellion before the great armies come back. 

He remembers the draft riots in New York city 
while the soldiers were away, for it happened that 
Captain Tom was at that time on his way to the 
front after being home on a furlough, and fought 
like a hero during those three days, by the side of 
the police, and he hopes it will never be his fortune 
to see such sights again. A battle is well enough, 
but mob violence must always be repulsive to a 
soldier. 

“ Yes, I comprehend, Carl. You have united your 
fortunes with some secret society. Don’t think I’m 
going to moralize — you know I never did that in 
the old times. You understand your business best — 
besides, I never did profess to have much knowledge 
about politics in this benighted country. I have no 
interest in your connection with Socialists.” 

“ Pardon, mynherr, but that is what troubles me — 
you are bound up with the people of the inner 
circle.” 

Carl almost whispers the words; and, as may be 
expected, they cause the American intense surprise. 
He looks cool enough, however, as he steps back 
and surveys his comrade. 

“ Explain yourself, Reuter. I never did like rid- 
dles, you remember.” 

“ Easily done. I am violating no pledge in telling 
you, for you are no friend to the authorities. In the 
first place, you can come to me for assistance, and, 
as you have heard, I am connected with the most 


THE FENCING DEN IN THE GRUN STRASSE. 


189 


desperate league ever known in Berlin, for the pur- 
pose of emancipating the people from their military 
slavery. But this is not all. The woman against 
whom you are pitted is a member of our order.” 

“ Linda Dubois ! Impossible!” cries Tom. 

“ Why impossible?” coolly demands the student, 
who has taken a pair of light but deadly swords 
from a drawer, and is testing them across his knee, 
until each bends almost double. 

“ Because I know her to be devoted to the German 
cause. Why, man, she has risked her life in Paris 
because of her love for Germany,” and Captain Tom 
looks his expected triumph. 

“Softly, my friend. You must not forget what I 
said about the peculiarities of our walls.” 

“I beg your pardon, Carl.” 

“As for Linda’s patriotism, my friend, are we not 
all risking our lives for the country we love, just as 
truly as she did. It is not against Germany we 
war, but her rulers. If we are discovered, death 
awaits us, or at least imprisonment for life in some 
gloomy fortress, where our bones will rest forever. 
We know this, and still we love the Fatherland so 
well that we take our lives in our hands and accept 
the risk.” 

“You say she is a member of your order.” 

“Yes; and when I heard she had come back to 
Berlin I believed— until you corrected me — that her 
arrival had something to do with a grand coup de 
main , which the Sons of Germany mean shall startle 
the world.” 

Captain Tom of course cares nothing about all 
this, save as a means to an end. Why has the Alsa- 
tian beauty brought the young girl to Berlin? She 
has a double reason for hating her, and may have 


190 THE FENCING BEN IN THE GRUN STRASSE. 

some terrible plan of vengeance forming in her 
brain. Tom likens her to Corsican girls he has 
seen, who love with the affection of a tigress, and 
destroy all that comes in their way, as remorselessly 
as the reaper mows the chaff with the wheat. 

“ I am thinking, Carl — would it be possible that 
this same Linda Dubois might be in secret league 
with the police? Sometimes it happens that the au- 
thorities learn through a traitor all about such so- 
cieties as your Sons of Germany ; at the proper time 
there are arrests made, a number of young men, 
with perhaps an officer or two of note, and even 
some women of society, disappear from the circles 
that knew them. It is whispered that they have 
been concerned in treasonable affairs, and finally 
the whole affair is forgotten. I have known of sev- 
eral whose fate to this day is a dark mystery — a 
terrible uncertainty.” 

Carl smiles and shrugs his shoulders. 

“None know the risks we take better than our- 
selves, mynherr. We hold our lives cheaply — for 
Germany. Even in the army we have our colleagues 
among officers of rank. It is such a conspiracy as 
that which existed during your late war, for the 
removal of your President, only far more general, 
and with a nobler purpose. On a certain day we 
strike, and lo! Germany is free.” 

Captain Tom sighs — he has seen others engaged 
in the same spasm for liberty, and their fate will 
undoubtedly be Carl’s. 

“ Tell me what you think of what I said about 
Linda Dubois being a spy.” 

“ It is possible— but we are bound to trust her. She 
knows the result of treachery — every member is 
sworn to take the life of a traitor ! What you have 


THE FENCING DEN IN THE GH UN STliASSE. 191 

hinted at will put me on my guard. I shall watch 
her. If she is found having communication with 
Count Marborg, the head of the secret police, or 
any of his agents, it will go hard with her. But 
come, my dear captain — your promise to teach me a 
few tricks.” 

“With pleasure. Shall we have the bout here?” 
rising and removing his coat. 

“There is a larger room back. Come, we will 
light it up. If you do not like these foils, there are 
others on the wall.” 

While Carl lights up, the American glances about 
him and sees that he is in what must be a gymna- 
sium. It is something new Carl has started since 
last Captain Tom visited Berlin, and he explains 
that it is a club-room where the Turners, a club of 
athletes, meet. 

No doubt all this is in the nature of a blind to 
deceive the police, and the students and others who 
gather here at stated times are bound together by 
other ties than would unite a mere society of ath- 
letes. 

Upon the walls hang foils, boxing-gloves, guns, 
pistols, wire masks, gloves, and scores of things 
usually seen in a fencing den. 

Tom selects a foil that suits him, and adjusts a 
wire face-protector. 

It does not matter much to him how the duel 
comes out, save that Carl is his friend. He does not 
even know the man against whom the student has 
pitted l^imself, but by reason of his friendship, he is 
resolved to teach Carl what he knows about the use 
of a sword. Perhaps it will benefit him in saving 
Meta. Who can tell how strangely these things 
work? 


192 THE FENCING DEN IN THE GRTJN STRASSE. 

He puts Carl through his paces, and they have a 
pretty bout, that interests Mickey, who claps his 
hands and cries “bravo!” when Captain Tom, with a 
peculiar turn of the wrist, twists the sword out of 
Carl’s hand and tosses it to one side. 

The soldier is a scientist — he has the art down to 
a fine point, and Carl is greatly pleased. He sets 
himself to learn with the assiduity that only a Ger- 
man could exhibit. Captain Tom’s estimate is not 
overdrawn, and in an hour Carl has the three tricks 
mastered. His enthusiasm is great— he squeezes 
Tom’s hand. 

“You may have builded better than you knew, 
Mynherr Tom. Wait and see. If I live through 
this little affair of honor, perhaps I can find a way 
of repaying my debt. I have a plan — you shall hear 
it later. The cause of German independence has 
been advanced by what you have taught me this 
night,” he exclaims. 

It is growing late, and our friends are tired. They 
would get some sleep, and the student of the strasse 
Grun shows them to a room where there are several 
cots. 

“ Make yourselves at home. In the morning the 
old woman who keeps house for me will cook your 
breakfast. As for myself, you know at the rising of 
the sun I am either a dead man, or else the secret of 
the Liberty Band is safe.” 

So he leaves them. 

The small windows look out upon the strasse, and 
as Captain Tom loves plenty of fresh air, he has 
one partly open. Tired men usually need no lullaby. 
The last sound Tom hears is the call of a watchman 
on the corner below. It is not far from midnight 
then. 


THE FENCING DEN IN THE GBUN 8TBASSR 


193 


He does not sleep soundly, waking a number of 
times. Once he believes he hears subdued voices 
outside, and creeping to the window, he listens, but 
the only sounds he catches are the songs and shouts 
of a party of hilarious students passing along some 
neighboring strasse. 

Thus the night passes away, and morning arrives. 
With the coming of dawn various cries are wafted 
in at the window, for Berlin awakens early. 
Wagons rattle along the narrow strasse, and voices 
in earnest conversation proclaim that the people 
are astir. 

What is the news from Paris? This is the first 
question on every lip, for the flower of the Prussian 
Army now besieges the French capital, and those in 
Berlin daily fear lest something may happen to 
cheat them of their prey. Rumors are rife of an- 
other French Army attacking the Germans in the 
rear and bursting the bonds of steel that have so 
long held Paris captive. 

Captain Tom arises and dresses. Mickey slumbers 
on, and seems to be enjoying himself so hugely that 
the other has not the heart to arouse him; nor is it 
at all necessary. 

Passing down below, he sees no sign of Carl, but 
on the table a note lies, addressed to himself. He 
reads : 

“I am alive, look for me at 8:30. Carl.” 

Glancing at his watch, he finds it only lacks an 
hour of that time now, and determines to get a 
breath of fresh air. 

Passing outside, he strolls along. The sun shines 
cheerily, just as though there might be no such 
things as sin, and crime, and death in all the 


194 THE FENCING DEN IN THE GRUN STRASSE. 

world, and particularly in the prim, quaint city of 
Berlin on the Spree. 

People pass him by— he notices everything, be- 
cause of an observing nature. Soldiers there are in 
plenty, for Berlin, with its neighboring military 
town of Potsdam, serves pretty much for a recruit- 
ing station, whence goes regiment after regiment 
to the front. Yon Moltke plays the game of war as 
an expert does chess — he does not forget his line of 
defense, and at the same time keeps up a vigorous 
attack. His is the combination that nine times out 
of ten wins. 

Captain Tom presently receives a shock. As he 
stands with the crowd upon the stone flags that 
constitute the pavement, to see a regiment march- 
ing for the cars, and bound for over the Rhine, he 
discovers, not ten feet away, the tall figure of a 
Uhlan captain. 

Something familiar about the man’s back causes 
him to draw his hat down over his eyes. Can it be 
possible? — this the prisoner of La Roquette, and in 
Berlin? 

Thoughts surge through his mind. He remem- 
bers that the last he heard of Johann Strauss, the 
valiant Uhlan had been rescued by a daring party 
of his compatriots, who in some mysterious manner 
must have found their way inside the lines. 

It is within the possibilities that he could reach 
Berlin if he was on the same military train that 
has carried Linda. Does his presence mean evil for 
Tom and his cause? The soldier of fortune fears so. 

Concealing himself, as well as possible, he waits 
to make sure there can be no mistake, and as the 
big officer strides past him in the direction of the 
arsenal, he knows Johann Strauss has indeed come 


THE FENCING DEN IN THE GRUN STRA8S& 


195 


to share in the closing scenes of the life drama in 
Berlin. 

Guard-houses and sentry-boxes there are every- 
where— soldiers are continually presenting arms as 
some officer rides by. The scene would astonish an 
American if he gazed upon it for the first time. 

Tom turns to retrace his steps, and almost runs 
over a man who has been standing behind him. He 
hastens to apologize in his best German, and at the 
same time curiously observes the other, who is clad 
in civilian’s dress, and looks like a sedate burgher. 
There is an expression of settled melancholy upon 
his long, cadaverous countenance— possibly he is 
troubled with a bad digestion. At any rate, Captain 
Tom sees nothing that he fancies there. 

The citizen bows, and with a rather ostentatious 
manner, Tom fancies, declares no harm has been 
done. He seems ready to seize upon the occasion for 
entering upon a little conversation, and asks a few 
questions concerning military matters in the States, 
which Tom cannot but answer, although a little 
rattled over his nationality being so easily guessed. 

As a usual thing he has been taken on sight for 
some English lord; not that he thinks this any 
great honor, as the American spirit of independence 
is too thoroughly bred in the bone. 

Somehow Tom imagines his companion is too in- 
quisitive by half, and he retreats within his shell, 
so to speak. At length, observing by his watch 
what the hour is, he begs the pardon of the melan- 
choly burgher, and turns on his heel. 

By the time he reaches the house on Grun strasse 
it will be half-way between the hours of eight and 
nine— breakfast will be served, and if Carl is alive 
he should be on hand, 


196 


UN TER DEN LINDEN. 


A brisk walk, and he reaches the narrow street. 
Just as he turns into it, rapid steps sound close 
behind, and a hand plucks his sleeve. Turning, he 
sees Carl, but with a look of deep perturbation upon 
his young face. 

“ Carl ! Thank Heaven, you live ! Victory has 
come to you ! Tell me, did the tricks I taught you 
come into good play? You are wounded ” 

“ Bah ! it is a trifle. That counts for nothing— but 
I have just received a terrible shock. As I was pass- 
ing along, I saw a man standing behind you in such 
a way that, turning, you must almost fall over him 
— I saw you engage in conversation with him, and 
my heart stood still.” 

“Confusion! Carl, why this talk? I have said 
nothing to attract attention. My words were all 
praise for Germany and its rulers. 1 was cautious.” 

“Very true, Mynherr Tom, let us admit that; but 
you know not to whom you spoke.” 

“ A stranger, truly — a worthy burgher ” 

“ My friend, it was that most terrible and detested 
of men, Count Marborg, the head of the secret 
police!” 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

UNTER DEN LINDEN. 

A man who has s:ood control of his nerves doc s 
not betray what he thinks by extraordinary jumps 
and starts. Although the intelligence which is now 
given to Captain Tom is of the most astonishing 
character, he looks calmly at his student friend, who 
almost whispered these words in his ear, and then 
makes a movement of the shoulders learned m 
France, 


UNTER DEN LINDEN. 


197 


“That is unpleasant news. Why should the count 
seek to make my acquaintance?” he asks, in a mat- 
ter-of-fact voice. 

“Because he has reason to suspect you.” 

“I have given him no cause— what should make 
him suspect?” 

“ Heaven knows — I do not claim to. When that 
man deliberately makes the acquaintance of any 
one upon the street, it is bad for that person. It gen- 
erally points to — death!” 

Captain Tom's chief worry is Meta. He fears that 
she may be dragged into the net by the plotting 
Linda, perhaps before he can even make an effort to 
save her. 

Thus he has reason for great worry. As they walk 
home the two talk in low tones, and come to some- 
thing of an understanding. 

Then Mickey, who awaits them, not knowing that 
anything else has happened to excite alarm, and 
being interested in the duel, begs to hear the partic- 
ulars. Carl can speak French, and in this tongue he 
briefly describes the meeting, how his opponent be- 
lieved he had a dead sure thing of it, and went down 
with Carl’s sword through his heart ere five min- 
utes had gone, thanks to the tricks Captain Tom 
had taught the other. 

“ I waited until the doctor who was with us pro- 
nounced him dead — I could not afford to take any 
chances. Now the Sons of Liberty need have no 
fear, since his lips are cold. He can never betray 
their secrets.” 

The soldier of fortune notes how fiercely Carl 
speaks — he knows these students of old, but it takes 
the most tremendous cause to bring about such ex- 
citement on the part of a German. What could be 


198 


UNTER DEN LINDEN. 


a stronger cause than love of country, and the risk 
of one's life? 

“I remembQr your words last night, Mynherr 
Tom, and to-day something has occurred to make 
me think that perhaps you are right, and that 
Linda Dubois is not with us heart and soul.” 

Captain Tom is deeply interested, for what con- 
cerns Linda has a bearing on Meta. He looks Carl 
in the face, and his manner in itself is enough to 
ask him to continue. 

“ When Peter Rindhoff lay there upon the hard 
ground on the bank of the river, I knew it would be 
necessary to thoroughly search his person, so that 
in case he carried any papers that would be apt to 
betray us they would not be found by those who dis- 
covered the body. 

“I made the search myself, and know it was 
thorough. The only evidence I found was a paper 
containing a list of members of our order, and this 
note. Read, mynherr.” 

Feeling that perhaps the note might interest him 
Captain Tom takes the crumpled paper. 

Ah! he has seen that writing before! His eyes 
devour it. 

“ I cannot yet come to you, but continue so to do 
your duty that you may receive the thanks of your 
master. Be diligent and faithful. You know the 
reward. All goes well here, and the end is not far 
off. Then look for me. Linda.” 

That is all. It is quite enough to convince Tom 
that his suspicions are correct, and that Linda Du- 
bois is a spy upon the Sons of Liberty, even as she 
was upon the citizens of Paris. 

He believes it is her intention to get Meta mixed 


UNTER DEN LINDEN. 199 

up with these plotters, so that her doom will be 
easily sealed. 

Sometimes, when people plot so deeply, they over- 
reach themselves, and this may be her case now. 
Since suspicions have been aroused concerning her 
fidelity to the society of which she is a member, she 
will have many eyes upon her movements, and may 
yet meet with the fate they have sworn to visit 
upon traitors. 

A lovely woman may do much on account of her 
looks, but they will not save her when the lives of 
such men, and the sacred object they work for, are 
at stake. 

Captain Tom has learned enough to know that 
danger lurks upon these wide streets of Berlin — 
danger for him. If the chief of the secret police has 
reason to suspect him then, indeed, must he be care- 
ful. To be thrown into a German dungeon, just 
when all of his cunning is needed to save Meta, 
would be a disaster. 

It is not his nature to leave much for others to do, 
but in this case he decides that Carl may offer good 
advice, since he knows the lay of things in Berlin. 

First of all, Meta must be warned of her danger — 
perhaps she does not suspect what the woman she 
has accompanied to Berlin is capable of doing, or 
how she can hate one who crosses her path. 

Over the breakfast-table they converse in low 
tones, and Captain Tom learns a number of things 
that mav be valuable to him. He also decides upon 
his plan of action. 

When the meal is over Carl goes out, and in a 
short time a hackney drosky stands in front of the 
house. Captain Tom has meanwhile made changes 
in his dress and appearance. It is not hard to make 


200 


UN TER DEN LINDEN. 


himself look more like a German citizen, for he has 
studied their ways and manner of dress. At the 
same time he does not put on too much, for fear of 
exciting the very comment he would avoid. 

“There,” he exclaims, as Mickey dusts him off. 
“I am ready to meet even the Old Nick himself, 
which in this case I presume means Count Mar- 
borg.” 

This individual is, no doubt, the last one in all the 
world whom Captain Tom cares to run across ; but 
it is just as likely as not that he may see more of 
Count Marborg before he has a chance to leave the 
city on the Spree. Many people see him who have 
no desire for such a meeting, as the count possesses 
peculiar facilities for appearing in different places, 
and it is his business to look up those who would 
rather remain in hiding. 

Captain Tom goes out. 

The day is cheerless and overcast, threatening 
snow. Upon the crowded street Captain Tom drives. 
He might at another time be greatly interested in 
the odd sights that meet his eyes, for Tom delights 
in the variety of costume that can be seen in con- 
tinental cities, especially from Berlin eastward — 
Vienna, St. Petersburg, Rome, Athens, Constanti- 
nople, and across in Alexandria, Bombay, Cal- 
cutta — he has been in them all, and remembers 
many strange things. 

Just at present, however, his mind is too 
thoroughly engrossed with his business to pay 
much heed to singular sights. When a man is en- 
gaged in a game of life and death he has need of all 
his energies, both of mind and body. 

At the proper place the vehicle stops, and he de- 


UN TER DEN LINDEN. 


201 


scends, after which the drosky is driven around a 
corner, to await his pleasure. 

He is not far from the house where Linda has her 
flat. There is a tobacco store opposite, from which 
the American can watch the house. Entering, he 
makes a purchase, and falls into a friendly conver- 
sation with the proprietor, all the while watching 
the opposite building, the steps of which are visible 
under the trees. 

Vehicles drive back and forth and in endless pro- 
cession, for Unter den Linden is the principal street 
of the city, and everything of importance that takes 
place occurs here. Now and then some royal per- 
sonage drives by in state, and the people are duly 
impressed. 

Tom’s thoughts, while he stands there smoking 
and apparently watching the gay scene, are far 
away. He dreams of his native city, and again looks 
upon the crowded Chestnut street. 

How different this wide avenue, and yet Tom 
cherishes many pleasant recollections of the city on 
the Delaware. Strange how fond we grow of our 
native land when wanderers in the world. 

His reverie does not prevent him from being 
watchful. To the passer-by he seems to be idly 
amusing himself by watching the throng. Tom’s 
thoughts have changed, and he now has Captain 
Johann in his mind. Then comes the memory of 
Marborg’s face— it haunts him. That thin, sallow 
countenance can doubtless light up with the evil 
nature of a fiend, when the eyes of the count fall 
upon some victim who has been caught in the toils. 

Talk about Satan— there he comes now, walking 
along alone! More than one person turns to look 
after him, all with fear, and sometimes the scowl of 


202 


UNTEli DEN LINDEN. 


hatred is seen on a face, for this terrible man is not 
an object of love to any of the Kaiser’s subjects. 

Captain Tom sees him coming. Not a muscle or a 
nerve trembles. This man of steel certainly has a 
wonderful control over his system. 

He calmly takes the cigar from his mouth, puffs 
out a cloud of smoke, and idly allows his eyes to pass 
from one to another until some hidden force seems 
to draw them to the face of the Yidocq of Berlin. 
He feels a pair of burning eyes meet his for a few 
seconds, but Captain Tom neither flinches nor turns 
red in the face — indeed, a more contemptuous, in- 
different expression could not well be assumed. 

Then Count Marborg passes on, not even once 
turning his head. Tom’s attention is now attracted 
across the avenue. A carriage has driven up and 
stands waiting. 

Finally out comes a lady, and trips down the 
stairs. Captain Tom would know that face and 
figure anywhere, although it was in the Parisian 
convent he saw them last. 

Yes, it is Linda! 

She enters the closed vehicle, which passes down 
the avenue, heading for the palace. This is what 
the American has hoped for. He now has a chance 
to see Meta, since her keeper is gone. 

Quickly he crosses over, and up the steps. The 
first etage, the grocery keeper said. He finds a bell, 
and rings it, then waits, with his heart in great 
suspense, for an answer. 

How will Meta receive him. Has her mind been 
in any way poisoned by the fair Alsatian, so that 
she will look upon him in distrust? He strives to 
collect himself — this man who can face deadly can- 
non with a laugh, and meet even the terrible Count 


(INTER DEN LINDEN. 


203 


Marborg’s stare coolly, is trembling like a culprit at 
the idea of being face to face with a slip of a girl. 
Truly, man is a queerly organized being. 

The door opens. 

Captain Tom looks into a face that has haunted 
him in his dreams— he sees eyes that cause the 
blood to leap madly through his veins — he hears a 
voice that he can never cease to remember, crying 
out, “Wake up, Captain Tom!” as the slight girl en- 
deavors to hold back the furious would-be assassin 
Francois, in the catacombs of Paris. 

At sight of him Meta is amazed — she loses control 
of herself for one little moment, and allows a look 
of extreme joy to pass over her face while she 
breathes his name : 

“Captain Tom!” 

How her voice thrills him ! He holds out his hand 
while he murmurs: 

“I have come to see you.” But by this time the 
girl remembers, and she recovers herself. Trust a 
girl of the nineteenth century for that, and espe- 
cially when she has French blood in her veins. 

“Monsieur is too late— my friend is out,” she 
makes reply. 

“ But I did not come to see your friend— indeed, I 
have watched the house from across the avenue 
until she went away, because I desired to see you 
alone,” he says, eagerly. 

Meta flushes in spite of her self-possession — the 
woman who hesitates is lost. 

“ I do not know that I should grant you this inter- 
view,” she says, slowly; the temptation is great. 

“You must,” replies Captain Tom, quietly, and 
with an air of authority few can repulse, “for I 


20d 


UNTEH DEN LINDEN. 


have come all the way from Paris to see you— to 
warn you — to save you !” 

This appeals to her heart ; she smiles and accepts 
his hand. 

“ How kind of you. Pray, enter, Monsieur Tom, 
and you may tell me what this means, how you ar- 
rived at Berlin, and all things necessary.” 

It is what Tom especially desires, and he obeys 
with alacrity, following into a room that seems to 
answer the purpose of a parlor. 

Here he sits down, and Meta draws near, her eyes 
full of a troubled light. Evidently Linda has de- 
ceived her, and she hardly knows which one to be- 
lieve. Has Captain Tom followed the fair Alsatian, 
or can she accept his words as truth? 

The American is no longer confused, for he knows 
he must make the most of his time. He rapidly 
sketches the many things that have happened since 
they last met in the catacombs, and even speaks of 
the secret band of which Carl is a member. 

His desire is to convince Meta that she is in peril 
— that Linda has a dark plot in mind. To do this he 
has to speak plainly, but Tom is not the man to 
mince matters. Above all, he impresses upon her 
the necessity of secrecy. So earnest is he in his con- 
versation that neither note the fact that a carriage 
has halted outside. 

Just in time Tom hears an outer door open, and 
his look warns the girl. He makes some joking re- 
mark concerning Linda, when in the parlor door 
stands that self-same personage, a look of blank 
incredulity and gathering anger upon her fair face. 


BISMARCK'S WATCH-DOG* 


205 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

BISMARCK’S WATCH-DOG. 

Captain Tom springs to his feet. Here is a miser- 
able contretemps that must be met unflinchingly, 
for the eyes of love and hate are keen. 

Fortunately he is equal to the emergency, and has 
already warned Meta as to the value of secrecy. 

“You did not expect to see me here,” he says, 
with a cheery laugh, advancing toward Linda. 

She sees his outstretched hand, and the look of 
amazement gradually leaves her face. This woman 
is a good actress, and it flashes upon her that, no 
matter what she may think, she must not betray 
herself. 

So she takes his hand, and at his touch, so mag- 
netic to her, the fierce passion burns anew in her 
heart. 

“ Mon Dieu ! I am amazed ! I believed you were 
safe within the lines of poor Paris. You are a 
wizard. Monsieur Tom ; who would have dreamed 
it was you who entered here?” 

“Ah ! you have heard of my coming, and hurried 
home to see me,” he cries, looking pleased at the 
idea of such a thing, when in reality he is only fish- 
ing for intelligence. 

“Behold, it is true, monsieur. I was just coming 
out of the — a house where I had some little busi- 
ness, when upon the seat of my carriage I found a 
note. Read it.” 

She tosses it upon the table, and picking it up he 


206 


BISMARCK'S WATCH-DOG . 


finds a few lines scrawled as though the writer has 
written upon his knee — of course in German : 

“If Mademoiselle Linda will return at once to her 
etage she will find a visitor whom she may be sur- 
prised to meet.” 

There is no signature, but Tom’s mind at once 
flies to the count. He smiles pleasantly. 

“This is strange — some officious friend, I pre- 
sume, for I have many in Berlin. Let it pass. I 
trust you are not sorry to see me, mademoiselle.” 

Her face lights up; she cannot help it, for this 
man is her hero, her king, even though the fortunes 
of war have placed them on opposite sides. Perhaps 
she is seized with a wild hope that he may have 
changed his colors, ifis presence in Berlin— what 
does it signify? 

Love grasps at trifles, even as a drowning man 
clutches at a straw. 

“Tell me, my American friend, why you are here? 
How did you leave Paris?” she asks. 

“ Paris seemed dull after you left, ma belle. Be- 
sides, I had seen enough of war. The end is near. 
I have decided to seek brighter scenes. What more 
natural than that I should come to Berlin?” 

His look says more than his words, and Linda, so 
shrewd in most things, is blinded now by her own 
love. It may be her undoing yet. 

“But how could you pass the lines, monsieur — 
you, of all men, Bismarck would like to see!” 

Tom shrugs his shoulders, remembering the thin- 
faced count and the dark fortress which may yet be 
his fate, unless death steps in. 

“You remember I am something of a wizard in 
my way, mademoiselle. I found a means of passing 


BISMARCK'S WATCH-DOG. 


207 


the lines. My presence here is positive evidence of 
the fact. I presumed you at least would be glad to 
see me.” 

A puzzled look is on her face. 

“You do not seem to fear arrest. Have you for- 
gotten that you did much to injure the German 
cause while in Paris? — that they may even consider 
you a spy” 

He stiil smiles, entirely unmoved. 

“My dear mam’selle, who knows this but you? 
And I imagine you are too good a friend to betray 
my indiscretion.” 

“Ah! you call it that now, monsieur — you are 
sorry you raised your hand against Germany?” she 
exclaims, impressively. 

“ At any rate, it is all in the past, mademoiselle. 
We will try and forget the horrors of the siege. I 
have come to see you — to renew our acquaintance, 
cut off by the hand of fate.” 

Could Linda but know how long he stood across 
the strasse, and waited for her to drive away, she 
might have some doubts regarding the truth of this 
statement. As it is, blinded by her passion, she 
yields to the fascination of the moment, and her 
liquid eyes beam tender glances as she notes the 
look upon Tom’s face. 

That worthy is secretly hoping Meta will have 
sense enough to understand that he is playing a 
part. He knows what peculiar vagaries influence a 
woman, and dreads lest between these two he falls— 
the one who loves him, and the other who is the 
object of his earnest affection. 

So they drop into a more natural conversation, 
each one endeavoring to appear at ease. It is a 
peculiar situation, and Tom hardly knows how to 


208 


BISMARCK'S WATCH-DOG. 


get out of it without arousing anew the suspicions 
of this wonderful woman, who may yet take a 
notion to seek Count Marborg, and whisper some- 
thing in that worthy’s ear. 

They beg him to remain to luncheon, and he has 
hard work excusing himself. However much 
tempted to remain and drink in pleasure in the 
presence of Meta, he realizes the danger while 
Linda’s eyes are upon him. 

When the latter’s back is turned he gives Meta a 
peculiar look, and presses a finger on his lips, 
which act signifies silence, discretion, and is de- 
lighted to see her nod and smile, as though she still 
has confidence in him. 

Then Captain Tom takes his leave. He flatters 
himself that by his ingenuity he has turned what 
threatened to be a calamity into something of a suc- 
cess, and unless a sudden fiasco overwhelms him, 
his plans may yet work out his own and Meta’s sal- 
vation... 

One thing he has not mentioned to Linda. That 
is the presence of the tall Uhlan captain in Berlin. 
If she does not already know of Johann Strauss 
being near there may be a surprise in store for her 
some day or hour. 

Here are congregated a number of discordant 
elements ; what magician’s wand will bring order 
out of chaos? 

If ever Captain Tom has had to think earnestly in 
all his life he does now. 

Much lies at stake, and the enemy is on the alert. 
How can he steal Meta away from the doom that 
awaits her in Berlin, and avoid the eyes of hate? 
Linda, alone, he might manage ; but if that somber- 


BISMARCK'S WATCH-DOG. 


209 


looking count takes a hand in the game he will 
cause trouble, for that is his mission in life. 

It must be his fate to run across this man, for, 
having dismissed all thoughts of him from his mind, 
Tom is just about to enter his vehicle when some 
one lays a finger on his shoulder. 

He turns his head. Behold ! the thin, dark face 
of the count is within a foot of his own. Marborg 
bows politely. 

“Your pardon, mynherr. The gentleman with 
whom I spoke this morning, I believe? I never for- 
get a face, and I rather fancied yours.” 

Captain Tom is gravely courteous. 

“How can I serve you, sir?” he asks. 

“ A singular thing to ask, but the notion struck 
me. I am a little lame, and if you are going in the 
direction of the Brandenburg gate I would esteem 
it a favor if you invited me to ride.” 

“With the greatest of pleasure, Count Marborg. 
I beg you to be seated.” 

“ Ah 1 you know me. It is well. I do not sail 
under false colors in Berlin. Thanks, monsieur; I 
accept your kind invitation — I enter your vehicle.” 

He suits the action to the word. Tom speaks to 
the driver, and follows suit. Although a dozen 
thoughts are rioting through his mind his face be- 
trays not the least uneasiness, for he has his feel- 
ings under admix able control. 

A strange, nay, a startling situation is this, to be 
riding down Unter den Linden by the side of the 
man known and feared by all conspirators through- 
out the German realms, who wields a powerful in- 
fluence with the government, and whose enmity is 
something to be feared. 

Some men in Tom’s position would have be- 


210 


BISMARCK'S WATCH-DOG. 


trayed themselves through their fear, but he does 
nothing of the sort. Indeed, the man has never 
been more at his ease. Danger serves to put him 
on his guard, and not alarm him. 

They soon pass the building where Linda has her 
etage. Tom looks up, to see the white face of the 
fair Alsatian. She is horrified to see Captain Tom 
riding along the public avenue side by side with 
that terrible man. The American takes off his hat 
and bows. She must think him a reckless man, in- 
deed, or else deeper than she has ever suspected. 

He knows full well the presence of Count Mar- 
borg is no accident. Why has the other sought this 
means of renewing their acquaintance? Does he 
expect to trip him up in conversation, and will the 
knowledge that his identity is known to Tom make 
a difference? 

He speaks of various things, and Tom is naturally 
drawn into conversation, though constantly on his 
guard. 

“You have traveled much, monsieur?” says the 
count, presently. He is looking beyond the horse’s 
head, as though gazing into vacancy. 

“All over the world. I have met all classes of 
men, and have seen strange sights.” 

“You have been in Paris?” 

Tom replies, without hesitation : 

“Oh! yes, indeed.” 

“Poor Paris! I fear our heavy guns will reduce 
it to ruins, unless those miserable dolts understand 
their situation and surrender.” 

“It would be a pity— people all over the world 
have a love for the French capital. What would 
Europe be without Paris?” 

The count does not share his enthusiasm, but 


BISMARCK’S WATCH-DOG. 


211 


waves his hand around — evidently Berlin bounds 
the world of his vision. 

“You see here a great city, monsieur. I am cer- 
tain that either Berlin or Vienna could take the 
place of poor Paris if she disappeared from the face 
of the earth. We are not venomous, however, 
monsieur, and it is not the wish of Germans that 
Paris be destroyed. You may again see the Champs 
Elysees some day— who knows?” 

His tone is peculiar. Tom is forcibly reminded of 
a cat playing with a mouse. This man is an old 
hand at such a game, and doubtless many a poor 
mouse in times gone by has found itself a prisoner 
in his trap. Nothing delights him better than 
spreading his net for the feet of an unwary 
offender. 

Monsieur Tom knows this as well as any one ; if 
he has not been blessed or cursed with the count’s 
acquaintance he has heard much of Bismarck’s 
Watch-Dog, who guards Berlin while the flower of 
the Prussian Army is over the border in France. 
Captain Tom talks on, as though he has nothing to 
fear. 

“Perhaps some time, my dear count, we may chat 
over a bottle of choice vintage, and exchange views 
and histories. I fancy that although your life has 
been a stirring one I could tell you some strange 
things that have occurred to me.” 

“Recently?” slyly asks the other. 

“Within the last ten years, since I entered the 
army under Sheridan,” continues Tom, apparently 
not heeding this little thrust. 

“Ah! that is where you won your spurs; your 
claim to being a captain comes from your services 
in that bloody war.” 


212 


BISMARCK ‘S WATCH-DOG. 


“He knows me!” 

That is the thought which instantly flies through 
the American’s brain. It means much to him, for 
Count Marborg may have means of communicating 
with the army about Paris, and from that source he 
can learn what will put the American’s head in 
peril. 

“You are right, count; I was made a captain 
after the battle of Cedar Creek, and personally com- 
plimented by General Sheridan on the field.” 

“You know the general — personally?” 

“Yes, indeed, and have no warmer friend.” 

“It is a pity.” 

“Eh! what’s that, count?” pretending to be sur- 
prised, though he knows the muttered phrase is but 
the hammering of the first nail into his own coffin. 

“Excuse me, monsieur. I was thinking of some- 
thing else. You see that tall, soldierly man on the 
promenade— once he had the confidence and honor 
of his king. Now he is sunk so low as to plot 
against that good king’s life. But we will have him 
— he cannot escape— no one leaves Berlin when the 
eye of Marborg has fallen on him, and there is an 
empty cell awaiting General Kramer.” 

How deeply significant the words. Captain Tom 
knows what horrors they signify. If Germany has 
no Siberia and the knout for her political prisoners, 
she dooms them to a fate as terrible as that which 
befell the wretched victims of the Bastile. 

“But you have said nothing to my invitation to 
drink a bottle with me, and exchange stories,” per- 
sists the American. 

The Watch-Dog of Berlin turns, and for the first 
time looks his companion squarely in the face. 

“ My dear captain, I am indeed at your service 


BISMARCK’S WATCII-DOG. 


213 


whenever the time comes. Just now business is 
brisk with me, and I could not take pleasure in 
idling an hour away even in such good company. 
In our country fidelity to public duty is entailed— 
the risk of neglect is more than dismissal, some- 
times even death. I respect you much — I know of 
no foreigner in Berlin who causes me as much 
thought. I shall be exceedingly pleased to meet you 
some other time. Kindly allow me to alight here, 
my dear captain.” 

The American speaks to the driver, who brings 
his vehicle into the gutter that disfigures this noble 
avenue. He would give something to ask this 
strange man what he means by such an expression, 
“ I know of no foreigner in Berlin who causes me so 
much thought.” 

Does he mean anxiety or worry, or is this but a 
crude manner of expressing himself? 

The vehicle stops. 

Count Marborg steps out upon the ground with an 
agility that shows no traces of lameness. It is 
doubly evident to the American that he has made 
an excuse to ride with him — perhaps to gain some 
information. Tom grimly smiles as he reflects that 
the boot has been on the other leg, if he knows any- 
thing about Hardee’s tactics. 

“ I shall take an interest in you, Captain Tom, 
since our acquaintance. Perhaps we may be 
of service to one another. Who knows? Strange 
things happen in these war times — very strange 
things. We do not understand all that we do see. 
I have the honor to bid you good-day, mynherr.” 

He is ceremonious, whether satirical or not, and 
Tom fancies he sees a sneer upon that thin upper 
lip; but he does not betray himself, takes the 


214 


CARL'S STORY. 


count’s cold hand in his, presses it, and gives the 
order to his Jehu to drive on. 

. It is in front of Spargnapani’s, the best known of 
the refreshment and reading-rooms on the grand 
avenue, that the count stands and looks after the 
hackney drosky in which our adventurer, Captain 
Tom, drives away. 

“Yes, my dear friend, my good friend, we shall 
one day compare notes, but I fear it will not be over 
a bottle of wine. When that broken telegraph wire 
is mended I may hear what was lost at its breaking. 
Until then you are safe— the Watch-Dog of Berlin 
never allows his prey to escape,” and turning he 
steps into the cafe. 


CHAPTER XXV. 
carl’s story. 

Captain Tom is done with his vehicle for the pres- 
ent. He has much to meditate upon. This singular 
ride with the recognized head of the German police 
force arouses peculiar ideas in his mind, and he is 
thus employed in working out various schemes 
while walking to the door of Carl’s humble home. 

He had not cared to bring the hackney drosky to 
the house. Somehow the idea comes into his brain 
that even the driver may be one of Marborg’s spies. 
He suspects nearly every person of such occupation. 
It must be as bad as Russia during these war times. 

Arrived at what he is pleased to call home for the 
present, he learns that Carl is out. This is unfortu- 
nate, because he desires to ask his friend a number 
of questions. 

It is some time before Carl makes his appearance, 


CARLS STORY. 


215 


and the American notes a strange look in his face— 
he catches a fugitive glance from the other’s eyes, 
and realizes that Carl is worried. 

What has happened? 

Can Carl have been a witness to his ride with the 
Count Marborg along Unter den Linden? 

It is possible, and suspicions may have been 
aroused. Who could think otherwise? As a general 
thing the lamb does not play with the lion— the 
millennium has not yet arrived. 

Tom makes a clean breast of it, and tells every- 
thing that has happened. His friend listens soberly, 
and when the narrative has reached its conclusion 
he suddenly wheels around and grasps the Ameri- 
can’s hand. 

“My friend, I knew of your ride before you spoke 
a word,” he says, earnestly. 

“Ah ! you saw me— you were surprised !” 

“No, but another belonging to our order did, and 
the circumstance was reported at our general head- 
quarters. All suspicious things are. Marborg little 
dreams how closely his own movements are 
watched,” returns Carl. 

“Have I satisfied you, then?” 

“In every respect. I am both pleased and sorry.” 

“Explain your words, Carl.” 

“Pleased to know that you are true, and filled 
with regrets because that man has undoubtedly 
marked you for his own.” 

Captain Tom hears, and understands exactly 
what this means, but he greets it with a shrug of 
the shoulders. He has seen Marborgs before now, 
in cities and in the depths of the wilderness, yes, 
and defeated their attempts upon his life, too. 

“You think, then, he means to down me— that he 


216 


CARL' 8 STORY. 


lias in some way received news of my work inside 
the walls of Paris?” he says, quietly. 

“I have no doubt of it — he hears daily from the 
scene of operations around Paris, though I believe 
there is just now some trouble with the wire — a 
storm broke it, and they have been unable to reach 
the place in order to mend it.” 

“Then lot us hope it will remain broken. Now, 
Carl, will you give me ten minutes?” 

“Twenty if you wish, Mynherr Tom.” 

“You know all the facts in the case. Advise me 
what to do.” 

The situation is so peculiar, and Tom has of late 
passed through so many adventures, that it is not 
strange he should seek assistance. Besides, Carl 
knows the ins and outs of Berlin far better than 
himself, and is used to deceiving Bismarck’s Watch- 
Dog. 

Nor is his German friend insensible to the gravity 
of his case. A false move may wreck all of his 
plans. Like most of his race, he is cautious and 
slow, but seldom makes a mistake. 

“ As I understand the matter, mynherr, you desire 
to take the fraulein away?” he asks. 

“That is it.” 

“Has she consented to go?” 

To this pointed question Captain Tom is not able 
to give a decisive answer. He scratches the tip of 
his nose, pulls at his mustache fiercely, and then 
gives a short laugh. 

“Bless my soul, Carl, old man, I really find myself 
unable to say yes positively. You remember I told 
you of my meeting Meta, but before our conversa- 
tion had reached a definite conclusion it was inter- 
rupted by the coming of Linda, thanks to the kind- 


CARL 8 STORY . 


217 


ness of Marborg in sending her that note of warn- 
ing.” 

“Yes, I see. Then it strikes me that your first 
business would be to get an interview with the lady, 
and make sure she is willing to go.” 

“You are right, my friend. It shall be done.” 

“Perhaps I may be able to help you,” says Carl, 
in a low but thrilling voice. 

“You will place me under heavy obligations, Carl. 
My whole heart is wrapped up in this affair. If you 
had ever loved ” 

At the words Carl’s hand closes on his arm with 
the grip of a vise, Carl’s face is turned upon him 
with an awful expression of white pain, and Carl’s 
voice, strained almost beyond recognition, speaks to 
him: 

“Mynherr Tom, we have known each other for a 
long time, but one secret I have kept from you. 
Words from you have unlocked my heart. I will 
open it to you, my friend.” 

“Not if it gives you pain, Carl.” 

“ It will do me good to speak of it — to renew my 
vows against the iron rulers who are bound to eat 
into the life of Germany, and against whom I have 
sworn eternal hatred. Yes, I loved with all my 
heart and soul ; I am not as young as you believe 
me, although a student still, as I shall always be ; 
but when I was some years younger I met my fate. 

I need not enter into particulars save to tell you 
that our meeting was strange and portentous — that 
I was enabled to save the life of m}' Gretchen by 
the exercise of the abilities nature had endowed me 
with, my strong arms. I have wondered many times 
why Heaven brought us thus together, only to make 
our parting doubly bitter, but each time I concluded 


218 


CAULS STORY. 


that some good would yet be attained ; at any rate 
it has made a life patriot out of Carl Reuter, who 
will fight for German liberty while he has life.” 

He is partly overcome by the recollections that 
burst upon him. Tom takes advantage of the oppor- 
tunity to say : 

“You lost your Gretchen, then?” 

“Yes, they killed her. Her father belonged to the 
society of which I am a life member. It was par- 
ticularly offensive to Bismarck, just before the 
opening of the war with France, and he gave orders 
to have it suppressed. 

“ They go about things here in a different manner 
from your country. If a house is under suspicion a 
file of soldiers, or the police, suddenly surround it ; 
there is a demand for surrender, and any resistance 
is met by a volley. 

“ This happened at the home of Gretchen. Some 
hot-head among the conspirators, believing they 
were already doomed to prison for life, fired at Mar- 
borg, hoping to at least rid Berlin of one man who 
had many foes and few friends. 

“ He missed his man, and the next moment a storm 
of bullets swept among them. Several were killed, 
and among others they laid my Gretchen low.” 

His voice trembles, despite his wonderful self-con- 
trol, and Tom can see his hands clenched in mute 
agony. Though he live to be sixty, this man will 
never be able to talk of this dread tragedy of his 
past without deep emotion. 

“Yes, I heard the news, and rushed to the house— 
she died in my arms— my darling ! As I looked into 
her face all my loyalty to the king vanished, and I 
determined that so long as I lived I would engage 
in the cause which she believed was right. 


CARL'S STORY, . 


219 


“That was how I came to be a Socialist— that is 
why I am now secretly plotting to free Germany 
from the bonds that enslave her.” 

Captain Tom may not have much faith in the ulti- 
mate success of the conspirators’ plans, but he can- 
not doubt their sincerity if they are all of Carl’s 
caliber. He has seen these things before in the re- 
publics of Central and South America, where Cap- 
tain Tom made a name for himself as a brave sol- 
dier of fortune, always on the side of the weak and 
oppressed. 

“ Have you any idea where you will see the young 
lady again?” Carl asks, after a short interval of 
silence. 

Tom shakes his head. 

“I suppose I might watch Linda’s etage as I did 
before; but what does that avail? She may not go 
out, and a spy will warn her of any movement I 
may make. There is only one way.” 

“Relate it, mynherr.” 

“A letter will do the business. I can explain all, 
and should Meta answer, it will serve to make ar- 
rangements.” 

He glances around the room as though looking for 
pen and paper, so Carl opens a desk and leaving 
him to his task drops into a chair. Ten minutes 
pass, during which time Captain Tom has been writ- 
ing at a furious rate. Then he turns around, and 
finds Carl sitting there as motionless as though 
made of stone. 

“Asleep, Carl?” 

“I am thinking,” comes the reply, and there is a 
deep significance in the words. 

“I have finished my letter. Will you care to hear 
what I have written?” asks Tom. 


220 


CARLS STORY. 


“ With pleasure. ” 

So the soldier reads, and Carl nods his apprecia- 
tion all through. When the end is finally reached 
he says, quietly 

“ That is to the point, Mynherr Tom, but it would 
be so much better if you could say this and more to 
mademoiselle.” 

“ Of course ; but an interview will be hard to gain 
after what has happened. Linda suspects me, and 
hates Meta.” 

“I said a little while ago that I had an idea the 
time was near at hand when you could receive as- 
sistance from me. Now I know it.” 

“Good!” ejaculates the American, who realizes 
that his lucky star has not yet deserted him. 

“ Listen, and I will explain. This night there will 
be a ball given at the Coliseum — not the kind usu- 
ally held there, but a special affair in which I am 
interested, because the society giving it is the Sons 
of Liberty under another name. 

“ I have received word that the fair Linda will be 
present. I believe she will bring Meta, for, according 
to my idea, it is her plan to get the girl mynherr 
loves connected with our society, and when this is 
done the blow can fall. 

“Even if she leaves her at home it will suit our 
purpose just as well, for while you hasten to Unter 
den Linden I will find a means of holding Linda 
where she is.” 

Tom seizes his companion’s hand and squeezes it 
with the greatest enthusiasm. 

“See what it is to have a friend ! I am under deep 
obligations, Carl. Let us, then, talk about these other 
particulars The time is short.” 

“We have the afternoon before us, comrade. Tak- 


CARL'S STORY. 


221 


ing a wagon we can drive out to the cottage of 
Franz and secure the balloon, which the man I told 
you of will take charge of. Are you sure the gas 
used here will serve your purpose?” 

“ In every way. The only trouble will be to get 
enough of it. Even if secured in sufficient volume 
it will take hours to inflate the balloon.” 

“ Make your mind easy. My friend is a machinist 
by trade. He will use the tunnel from his house and 
tap the gas main. Thus you can receive a full sup- 
ply, and count on having the balloon inflated at a 
certain time.” 

“Ah, you plan well, my friend, and this man — 
you say he was once an aeronaut himself?” 

“Yes, he has made many voyages through the 
clouds in his air-ship. This is well, for several rea- 
sons. In the first place, he will know how to manip- 
ulate the balloon when filling it. Then again should 
any inquisitive persons see the monster air-ship 
near his house they would not think it strange, for 
this same thing has been witnessed there many 
times.” 

Tom recognizes this fact himself, and is more 
than ever inclined to believe that good fortune is on 
his side. 

“I am ready to start when you are, Carl,” he says, 
with considerable enthusiasm. 

“Wait until we have dinner, my friend. There is 
no particular hurry. We shall get there all in good 
time. Have patience,” replies the German. 

So it is arranged. 

Tom subdues his impatience, and becomes his old 
cool self. He has a feeling that this coming night 
will witness a change in his fortunes, or at least 
mark a crisis in his life. Never has he felt so keenly 


222 


MICKEY SHOWS UP AT LAST. 


the lack of a power to lift the vail of the future. He 
would give much to be able to see ahead — but a wise 
Providence screens the future from mortals’ eyes ; 
we can only keep up a brave heart and push on, 
hoping for the best, yet believing that what is to be 
must be. 

Captain Tom is no fatalist, nor does he believe in 
the teachings of Mahomet— he never yet has sat still 
and allowed fate to strike him a blow, but if disas- 
ter overtakes him it finds a man struggling with 
every muscle and nerve and tissue of his body, 
endeavoring to back up his convictions with all his 
might. 

Mickey has passed the morning by a walk. He 
has not yet shown up, and Tom feels a little alarm, 
knowing the Irishman’s capacity for mischief. His 
hot head might easily get his foot into a mess in 
this German capital, and being unable to speak the 
language of the natives he would be in quite a seri- 
ous dilemma. 

Dinner is ready. 

Still no Mickey, and even Carl is a trifle anxious 
concerning the other’s fate. He announces that ere 
they start out upon their ride he will, by means of 
the secret telegraph, inform many members of the 
order concerning Mickey, so that if any of them has 
a chance to befriend the Irishman they will accept 
the opportunity. 

So the dinner is discussed. 


CHAPTER XX VI. 

MICKEY SHOWS UP AT LAST. 

“It is time we started,” remarks Carl, as they 
rise from the table. 


MICKEY SHOWS UP AT LAST. 


“ But the vehicle ” 

“ Awaits us down the street. I ordered it before 
we sat down to eat,” the student replies. 

“ You are a wizard, old chap.” 

“ Oh, no ; but I have facilities here such as the 
world will some time be blessed with. I can stand 
in a little room and talk with Herr Richter, a mem- 
ber of the Reichstag, whose house is more than a 
mile away. Invention is my business, you know, 
Mynherr Tom. I believe electricity is yet bound to 
revolutionize the world, and the discoveries of the 
last century will be utterly insignificant beside 
what is yet to come.” 

They walk out. The air is heavy and cold. Upon 
the hard ground a few flakes of snow fall. Captain 
Tom notes one thing with satisfaction. 

“ The air is from the north-west. It will carry me 
out of Germany if all goes well,” he remarks. 

It is evident that his mind is set upon a certain 
line of work, and Captain Tom's application is such 
that he will go through with it. 

Walking along Grun strasse they come to a cov- 
ered vehicle with two horses attached. 

Captain Tom marks it as their property, and is 
not at all surprised when his companion steps up 
and speaks to the driver. 

“Mount, friend,” he says to Tom. 

A comfortable seat, and a pair of good horses, 
what better might be asked? They arrive at the 
city gate, and are allowed to pass out, for Berlin is 
not in a state of siege, and vigilance is relaxed. The 
citizens are gathered in knots ; no news has been 
received all day, and they are anxious to hear from 
the seat of war. Thus Berlin seems like a gigantic 
bee-hive at swarming time. Has Paris fallen, or 


224 


MICKEY SHOWS UP AT LAST. 


has a provincial army arrived in time to raise the 
wonderful siege? 

These are pertinent questions, and those who ask 
them have good reasons for anxiety, since they 
have sent their sons, their brothers, and husbands 
to the war. 

Our friends have heard of the broken wire, but do 
not realize how closely this is allied to the fortunes 
of Captain Tom. 

The soldier recognizes his surroundings, and his 
mind goes back to the adventures of the previous 
night. Yes, there is the house of Franz — poor, sim- 
ple Franz, who had been hoodwinked by the sky- 
travelers, and forced to give them a royal supper, 
thanks to the good looks and diplomacy of the 
American. 

Stopping in front of the humble cottage, the two 
men spring from the wagon. Franz and his spouse 
both come to the door, the former trembling at sight 
of the government secret service officer, as he deems 
Tom. From the buxom wife the soldier receives a 
bright smile of welcome. 

“Pardon, madam,” he says at once, for business 
will not allow any more delay than is necessary 
just at present, “but we had private information 
that certain things stolen from the government 
stores have been secreted in one of your straw 
stacks. Of course we know you anfl your good man 
here have no knowledge of their presence, but I told 
my friend here, the assistant of Count Marborg, 
that before we searched the stacks it would be as 
well for us to let you know.” 

“Mynherr, search every stack. All— all are at 
your disposal. We are loyal subjects of the king, 
and we would not shelter or feed any one who has 


MICKEY SHOWS UP AT LAST 


225 


raised an arm against his majesty for a thousand, 
ay, ten thousand thalers. I pray you search, gentle- 
men.” 

During the delivery of this patriotic address by 
the spouse of Franz, the “head of the house,” it is 
worth while to note the look to be seen upon the 
faces of the men for whom the remarks were in- 
tended. Carl has a sneer upon his lips, for he hates 
the government this woman loves. Captain Tom is 
smiling, for he remembers that she has fed him with 
the greatest of pleasure, and if Wilhelm and his 
court have a more bitter enemy than this man has 
proven to them they are to be pitied. 

“One thing,” he cautions, ere leaving the door, 
“no matter whether we find anything suspicious or 
not you must keep this visit a secret. Count Mar- 
borg will hold you personally responsible.” 

Franz has turned white at the first mention of 
that dreaded name. There is no danger that any- 
thing will pass his lips. The woman is quite another 
person, but he trusts she may keep a close tongue 
for twenty hours. 

So the covered vehicle is driven close to the straw 
stack into which Tom and Mickey managed to hide 
the collapsed balloon. 

It is there, and does not appear to have been in 
the least disturbed. Joyfully they load it in the 
wagon. A number of persons, filled with curiosity, 
start to come around. Carl demands their immedi- 
ate departure. His appearance, coupled with the 
mention of the count’s name, together with the 
sight of a silver medal disclosed by opening his 
coat, is enough to alarm the rough peasants belong- 
ing to this section, and they retreat at once to their 
several homes. The region seems to be taken up 


226 


MICKEY SHOWS UP AT LAST. 


with market gardens, where under glass the people 
produce all manner of early green stuff for the Ber- 
lin markets. 

As a general thing the women, in their odd dress 
and wooden shoes, can be seen attending to the 
crops, while few men are in sight, the majority hav- 
ing probably gone to the city with their loads. 

The balloon is on the wagon at last, and with a 
few parting words to the wife of Franz they move 
on. No trouble is experienced in entering the city 
gates. Carl has invested some change in green 
stuff, with which he has about covered the balloon. 
At any rate they have the pass-word, and under 
ordinary circumstances this is enough to admit of a 
passage either way. 

Tom thinks of Mickey, and keeps his eyes on the 
alert, as though hoping to see the Irishman on the 
streets, but no such luck is his. 

CarFs driver has his orders. He is a quiet man, 
and has not once spoken since the two entered the 
wagon in the Grun strasse. Afterward Tom does not 
think this so singular, for he discovers that the man 
is a mute. 

They enter another section of the city, known as 
the New Stadt. Here the houses are less confusing, 
and some vacant places are seen. 

At a small house they stop, and Carl knocks upon 
the door, bringing out a stout Teuton with a face as 
round as a dollar. Without many words they pro- 
ceed to carry the collapsed balloon through a gate 
into the vacant lot. Captain Tom and the driver 
bear a hand also, for it is cumbersome. 

Then the vehicle is dismissed, and Tom is intro- 
duced to the professor, whose eyes twinkle as he 
hears how the reckless American has come all the 


MICKEY SHOWS UP AT LAST. 


227 


way from Paris to Berlin by balloon. Any one who 
can accomplish such a feat has the sympathy and 
good-will of this old aeronaut. 

The professor declares he would never have given 
aerial navigation up only his increasing weight 
would be apt to hinder such voyages. He hopes to 
soon reduce his flesh, and then carry out the scheme 
of his life— a flight to the North Pole by balloon. 

An hour passes. The professor has spent the time 
in chatting, but all the while he examines and 
measures the silk of the balloon. When he at length 
finishes his task he smiles. 

“There are only one or two small places where 
the bag needs mending. It may not take me more 
than ten minutes. Then all will be ready. As soon 
as darkness comes I will make my attachments, 
and begin to fill the bag. This night it will be ready 
to carry you out of Berlin.” 

This is the news Tom wants, and he can hardly 
refrain from throwing his hat up into the air when 
he hears what the professor says. 

“Name an hour— a surety, professor. I shall rely 
implicitly on your promise,” he says. 

Again the other figures; he knows how many 
cubic feet of gas he can secure an hour, and Tom 
gives him the dimensions of the balloon, which he 
has secured from a book while en route , a vade me- 
cum of the professor who met his death in the 
streets of Paris through the agency of a shell. 

Thus he has not a very hard task. Presently he 
looks up with a bland smile. 

“I have it, mynherr. Barring accidents, mind 
you, I will have the balloon ready by midnight.” 

“A thousand thanks, professor. What will the 
damages be this time?” 


228 


MICKEY SHOWS UP AT LAST. 


“I hope there will be no damage, mynherr. I am 
one careful man, exceedingly so.” 

“ Excuse me, professor— I forgot I was not speak- 
ing to a Yankee from across the water. What I 
meant was, what will it cost? your charges?” 

The stout professor glances into Carl’s face, and 
receives a signal that satisfies him. 

“There is nothing to pay.” 

“ Come, come ; I am not used to being treated in 
this way. I am well able to pay, professor,” cries 
the American, rather hotly. 

“ There are no charges, mynheer. The gas costs 
nothing, for it is taken from the city pipes — I have 
permission to do this while engaged in experiments. 
As for my labor — pah! — do you not understand, we 
who belong to each other cannot be as strangers.” 

Tom comprehends. He is looked upon in the light 
of being a member of the Sons of Liberty. Well, 
what does it matter, when on this very night it is 
his plan to rise to heights unknown, and leave Ber- 
lin. 

He expresses a desire to assist the old man in the 
work before him, and as evening is not very far dis- 
tant the professor allows it. First they all enter his 
house, where Tom’s soul is fired by the display of 
mechanical curiosities. 

Next they go below the house and enter a peculiar 
tunnel. A light is needed here, but the professor 
needs no lamp. All he does is to press upon a button 
in the wall, and an electric light flashes up ahead. 

“Aha!” mutters Captain Tom, “here we have a 
genius ahead of his fellows. It was a great day 
when the aeronaut discovered that he would have 
to give up his aerial flights, and occupy his time 


MICKEY SHOWS UP AT LAST. 


229 


with inventions. There may be other surprises in 
store for me. I will keep my eyes open.” 

In the tunnel the professor secures a long coil of 
rubber tubing or hose. It has undoubtedly been 
used for the same purpose before, as there is a rank 
odor of gas about it. One end is secured to a pipe 
that has a stop cock in it, and this in turn is con- 
nected with the gas main exposed at the end of the 
tunnel. 

These things please Captain Tom. It seems as 
though something comes up to fill every gap, and 
he assists the stout professor with the greatest of 
zeal. 

Thus the patches are put on in the two spots 
where little rents occurred, and just at dusk the gas 
is turned into the tube. 

The shape begins to rise up from the vacant lot, 
looking like a huge gray cloth under which the 
wind has found its way. Tom survey s it with the 
deepest interest, and rests his hand upon the basket 
almost reverently. Why not? Has it not saved him 
from being shut up inside the walls of Paris while 
the girl he loves is being carried away by one who 
hates her? Does not his sole hope of leaving Berlin 
hang upon this network of silk cloth and twine, this 
strange ship of the clouds that floats along at the 
mercy of heaven’s winds? 

All looks hopeful, and yet Captain Tom knows 
enough of Count Marborg by reputation and per- 
sonal reading to feel sure that he is a hard man to 
outwit, and that the person who gets the better of 
the Watch-Dog dares not sleep. 

They part from the professor, who gives a solemn 
assurance, based upon his practical knowledge, that, 
barring accident, the balloon will be tugging at her 


230 


MICKEY SHOWS UP AT LAST. 


ropes ready to soar aloft when the hour of mid- 
night arrives. Tom inwardly prays that the always 
possible accident will not happen in this case, for it 
may mean life and death to him. 

Again an uneasy feeling comes over him, which 
he cannot explain. He is not sick, and their plans 
seem to promise at least a fair amount of success. 
Then why worry? He cannot tell, but the spirit is 
on him, and he allows the heavy feeling to envelop 
his mind. 

Side by side with Carl he starts for home. 

When on the way a man dressed in a blue blouse 
and having a Tyrolese hat upon his head, staggers 
into him. Drunken men are so rare in Berlin that 
Tom is surprised and indignant. He feels like fol- 
lowing the man, who goes staggering on, and hav- 
ing him attended to. Carl has received the brunt of 
the lellow’s lurch— it was he who wrestled with the 
rascal for a minute, and finally forced him on down 
the street. 

“Come,” said that worthy, tapping his arm, “let 
us go on. Pay no heed to that man.” 

Captain Tom tumbles to the game— he realizes 
that the drunken fellow is really one of Carl’s co- 
conspirators, and that he has adopted this method 
of communicating some intelligence of importance. 

“What is it, Carl?” he asks, quietly. 

“Ah, your eyes are keen, my friend. You jump 
at conclusions as a dog does at a bone.” 

Tom laughs at the comparison, and yet realizes 
its power. 

“ My inference is correct— you have learned some- 
thing from that man,” he persists. 

“ That is true. He gave me a few lines that are of 
the utmost importance. They call for my immediate 


MICKEY SHOWS UP AT LAST. 


231 


attention. Would you think it odd if I allowed you 
to go home alone, Mynherr Tom?” 

“Not at all, Carl. If this is important business, let 
no thought of my poor self worry you. I know the 
streets of Berlin like a book, and I will have little 
trouble in reaching your house. When do you ex- 
pect to join me there? how long shall it be ere we 
start for the Coliseum?” 

“Call it one hour,” replies Carl, thoughtfully, and 
his companion knows that if it is in his power he 
will turn up at the expiration of the limit he has set. 

Thus they separate, these two who have sworn to 
stand together and baffle a woman’s scheming. She 
has all the power of Count Marborg on her side, and 
it behooves these comrades to exert themselves to 
the utmost if they would succeed. 

Captain Tom saunters on. 

There are many strange scenes upon the streets of 
the German capital even in winter, and the flicker- 
ing gas-lights show him oddities in dress and man- 
ner among the people, which at another time must 
have aroused the strain of artist blood in him — for 
this man of various accomplishments has dozens of 
small paintings that represent strange scenes in his 
adventurous life, the product of his own brush. 

Now he gives them but a casual glance, for his 
mind is taken up wdth something else. Thus he 
moves along. The region is not unfamiliar to him, 
though he has not tramped it for some years. He 
knows where to strike Unter den Linden, and after 
that it is easy to find Grun strasse, with the little 
house that Carl owns. 

As he walks along the American notes signs of 
excitement around him. He is reminded of scenes 


232 


A MUG OF MULLED PORTED. 


so recently witnessed in Paris. What can be the 
matter? Has important news been received? 

Something causes him to hurry forward, as 
though he would discover this for himself. As he 
reaches the crowd he hears a voice and it sends a 
thrill through him— it is the voice of Mickey, and 
means trouble in the camp. 

Mickey has turned up at last. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

A MUG OF MULLED PORTER. 

Mickey, though something of a humorist in his 
way, is a natural born fighter. He has developed 
this trait more and more since Captain Tom knew 
him first. Perhaps the spirit is in the air and influ- 
ences him. When men are mowing each other 
down, when chassepots and needle-guns blai*e 
through the livelong day and night, when fierce 
charges are met and repulsed, while the shouts of 
half-crazed combatants swell over the field of bat- 
tle, who has ever heard of an Irishman retaining 
his senses. It is beyond reason to expect it. 

When Tom hears that well-known voice he under- 
stands instantly that Mickey is in a mess of some 
sort. Obeying his first impulse he pushes forward 
to see what it means. 

The street is well lighted. In Berlin they believe 
that every additional light scares a thief away, and 
hence do not spare the illumination. 

He pushes on. Others are rushing in the same 
direction, as though eager for some sensation. 
Crowds are much the same the world over, from 
Constantinople to New York-unsympathetic, easily 


A MUG OF MULLED PORTER. 


233 


swayed, and merciless. As a general thing they are 
made up of cowardly elements, too ; at least that 
has been the experience of the soldier of fortune, 
and looking back in his checkered career he can 
remember adventures more or less exciting, with 
mobs in the cities of Mexico, of Buenos Ayres, 
Singapore, Alexandria, and in Moscow, which 
ought to make him something of a judge. 

Mickey keeps up his shouting. Captain Tom re- 
members that the last time he saw the doughty 
Irishman in an affair of this kind it was done with 
the express purpose of securing a paper that he 
knew his antagonist held. Can it be that Mickey is 
up to anything of the same sort now? or has he 
been dragged into an ordinary street brawl? 

One flash of fear passes through the brain of the 
soldier ; it is to the effect that Mickey may have im- 
bibed too freely. He has never known the Irishman 
to do this, but it is a failing of his race, and apt to 
come home to him at any time. 

Now he pushes through the crowd, and reaches 
the scene of action. Yes, there is Mickey as big as 
day ; nor is he alone. A large figure, clad in the 
regimental dress of the Uhlan, is beside him. 

What under the sun is going on? 

Has the Uhlan captured him? Indeed it looks as 
though the boot were on the other leg, for it is 
Mickey that tries to make the big fellow come on. 
By threats and wild entreaties he endeavors to start 
him up; the man leaning against the house simply 
stares at him vacantly. 

Then Mickey changes his tune — he threatens to 
desert his companion. At this the huge hand of the 
Uhlan soldier comes down with terrific force upon 
his shoulder, and clutches him in a grip of iron, Of 


234 


A MUG OF MULLED PORTER. 


course Mickey tries to get away no longer, but re- 
sumes his cajoleries and loud talk, while the other 
listens absently. 

Captain Tom sees and understands. Mickey is 
evidently under arrest, though whether from suspi- 
cion or because of something recently done, can 
only be guessed. 

He would make his escape, and in some way has 
succeeded in fuddling the soldier’s brain, but only 
to a certain extent. The Uhlan knows he ought to 
hold his prisoner, and has sense enough left to grasp 
him when he seems about to slip away. 

This is annoying to Captain Tom, but as yet he 
does not know that Mickey is to blame. It is unfor- 
tunate, because he has so many other things to look 
after. If the Irishman finds himself inside of a Ger- 
man dungeon there can be no such thing as a res- 
cue ; he will have to stand the consequences. 

One thing is strange, and it gives Tom hope of a 
speedy ending to the scene. As yet not a soldier has 
been attracted to the spot, though they are liable 
to come running up at any time. 

Although Germany is overrun with soldiers, they 
are no especial pets with the rabble, and even now 
a dozen men laugh and jeer at the Uhlan, whom 
they believe to be drunk, cheering on the Irishman, 
and begging him in German to pitch into the soldier. 

Although Mickey cannot understand the words, he 
catches the tone, and that is enough to fire his blood. 
Captain Tom sweeps one glance up and down* the 
street. He fancies he can see a file of soldiers turn- 
ing a corner above. They will be down upon them 
in quick order. Whatever is done must be accom- 
plished speedily. 

The Uhlan’s great hand still clutches the shoulder 


A MUG OF MULLED PORTER . 


235 


of the Irishman. Will he never release him? There 
is but one way to accomplish the result. 

“ Mickey!” 

Ah, the Irishman recognizes the voice above the 
tumult ; he crests his head as though listening for 
orders. Captain Tom understands. 

“Tap him on the neck — a powerful blow. That 
will cause him to let go. Then join me. Quick! 
some of his companions are sweeping down the 
strasse.” 

It is enough for Mickey, who has only needed a 
master-mind to direct him out of the muddle. He 
turns toward the dazed Uhlan, whose grasp is still 
upon his arm. 

“ L’ave go, ye spalpeen ! Take a gentleman for a 
Socialist, will yees? Look out, now!” and he accom- 
panies the words with a sudden dash of the arm 
that carries a clenched fist before it. 

The blow strikes fairly upon the neck of the sol- 
dier, and is delivered with telling force. To look at 
him one would hardly believe Mickey capable of 
such knock-down arguments. Mr. Uhlan goes to 
sleep practically, and the officious hand drops from 
Mickey’s shoulder. He is free to depart, and the 
sooner he does it the better, judging from the clank- 
ing sound up the street that announces the coming 
of soldiers. 

“This way, Mickey!” calls a voice, as soon as the 
knock-out argument has been concluded. 

Evidently the Irishman cannot be in the same 
befuddled condition that has characterized the pres- 
ence of the Uhlan, for he advances toward Tom 
with great jumps. The soldier is glad to see this, 
for it means that Mickey has a chance to escape. If 
under the influence of liquor his peril is great. 


236 A MUG OF MULLED PORTER. 

Together they run down the street. The crowd 
grasps the situation, and remains to confuse the 
coming soldiers, who are now close at hand. In 
this way they show their sympathy for the man 
who has called out the magic word, “ Socialist. ” 

Tom keeps his wits about him. He knows that 
they cannot run beyond the corner, for there the 
street is filled with people and vehicles, and they 
will at once attract the attention of soldiers or police. 
There is a way open to elude arrest, and he seizes it. 

Arriving at the corner he steps around, and uses 
his eyes to advantage. Fortune is kind. Close by a 
hackney drosky stands, drawn up near the pave- 
ment, its driver evidently awaiting a fare. 

“ Empty?” demands the American. 

The driver nods quickly and eagerly. 

“Enter!” this to Mickey, who, hearing the boister- 
ous shouts up the street which they have just 
quitted, loses not a second in obeying. 

Captain Tom waits only long enough to give the 
driver his directions, and tell him there is need of 
haste, when the vehicle moves away, and is speedily 
lost in the procession. 

Three minutes later a file of soldiers issues from 
the side street in some confusion. The officer in 
command looks up and down the avenue. He can 
see no signs of the two who answer the description 
given of the aggressors. Several more soldiers come 
out bearing the senseless body of the Uhlan whom 
Mickey downed. 

Questions are put in a voluminous way to some 
loungers near by, and thus it is learned that the two 
foreigners have entered a vehicle and gone away. 
The owner of the drosky is known, and he can be 
questioned when he comes back. 


A MUG OF MULLED PORTER. 


237 


Meanwhile our two friends are making good time 
back to the New Stadt, from which section of Berlin 
Tom had just come when stopped by the noisy 
crowd ahead. It is his intention to leave Mickey 
with the professor, so as to keep him out of mischief 
and know where to find him when the expected 
crisis arrives. On the way he questions Mickey, and 
hears the story. As he expected, the Irishman is 
not so much to blame for getting into trouble. 

When Mickey entered the city gates and found a 
soldier staring hard at him, a man he had met be- 
fore, he declared that it did not matter much any- 
way — that their mission to Berlin would be accom- 
plished before this slow-witted German could re- 
member where and under what circumstances they 
two had come in contact. 

Here he made a mistake. The soldier, in looking 
back over his career, remembered an encounter with 
Mickey, and was ready to take his solemn oath that 
at that time the Irishman was' in the French Army, 
fighting under Louis Napoleon. 

This made it a serious business, for the man could 
only be in Berlin as a spy. 

Word went out late in the afternoon to arrest a 
man answering Mickey’s description, and every sol- 
dier was on the lookout for him. 

Then Mickey explained why he had not returned 
to Carl’s house at noon. Wandering along the bank 
of the Spree he met an old friend whom he had not 
seen for years. 

An Irishman is nothing if not convivial, and when 
he meets a fellow exile from the Green Isle it must 
be something of great importance that can tear 
them apart. So, unconscious of the fact that five 
hundred German soldiers were on the lookout for 


238 


A MUQ OF MULLED PORTER. 


a man answering Mickey’s description, Mickey and 
his friend spent the afternoon on board a little boat, 
now laid up for the winter, but the property of his 
compatriot. 

They probably exchanged histories, at any rate 
the darkness came before Mickey dreamed of such 
a thing, and he awakened to the fact that he had 
forgotten Captain Tom. Perhaps the other would 
be very angry at his long delay. At any rate he 
would endeavor to make up for lost time. 

He hurried along. The city was familiar enough 
for him to avoid mistakes. While making his way 
to the main avenue, Unter den Linden, he was sud- 
denly accosted by a tall soldier, who coolly linked 
his arm with that of the Irishman. 

Mickey understood at once that this meant dan- 
ger, but he affected to be jovial, laughed, and en- 
tered into a distracted sort of conversation with his 
companion. As he knew very little German, and the 
other had but a smattering of French, they made 
but poor headway in this business, though it seemed 
to please Mickey immensely. He roared with laugh- 
ter, while the Uhlan grew red as he thought how 
neatly he was drawing his prey into the net. 

As yet there had been no indication of an arrest, 
although the soldier led his companion as he willed. 
Mickey was thinking very seriously, even while ap- 
pearing so very jovial. 

Could he shake off this leech clad in a military 
coat, and with such powerful muscles? It would be 
fatal to him should he be taken before a military 
tribunal and tried. He had no passport, and could 
give no account of himself unless he told the whole 
story, which would betray Tom. 

Mickey realized the gravity of his situation, and 


A MUQ OF MULLED PORTER. 


233 


being quick-witted, jumped upon a plan. How for- 
tunate that Captain Tom gave him those powders. 
He said one of them was an ordinary dose, and 
would speedily cause a man to lose his senses. All 
very good, but how was he to get one of the pow- 
ders down the soldier’s gullet? 

His hard thinking was of no avail until by chance 
they reached the light that streamed from one of 
the refreshment rooms which abound in Berlin. 

Mickey immediately had an idea, and with him 
this meant much. He was seized with a fit of 
coughing, during which he managed to get one of 
the powder papers in his hand. When he partially 
recovered his breath he signified that he must enter 
the refreshment room to wash his throat with some 
mulled porter. 

At the mention of the word the soldier smacked 
his lips — how could he help it? He must accompany 
Mickey into the place. What did it matter since he 
had not yet made an arrest, or, in military parlance, 
placed the other under guard? 

So he entered with Mickey, who ordered two 
mugs of porter, some condiments, and a red-hot 
poker. The Uhlan made no protest, but his lips 
seemed to water at the prospect. Army discipline 
was not so strict as it would be later; when a war is 
in progress good soldiers are too scarce to be shut 
up in guard-houses for petty offenses. 

The porter came, also the poker, which had been 
brought almost to a white heat. Turning his back 
to Mickey, the soldier heard the clicking of the 
mugs, then came a hissing sound as the poker was 
alternately thrust into each mug, and after that 
arose a heavenly odor. 

He could stand it no longer— a martyr he never 


24.0 


A MUG OF MULLED PORTER. 


was, and turning he accepted the mug which the 
smiling Mickey handed to him. What harm in 
drinking with this jolly fellow? The arrest could be 
made afterward. 

No officer was near to see him. He drank, he 
gulped down the mulled porter, he drained the mug, 
and quickly set it down, wiping his mouth with the 
back of his hand. 

Mickey went at it more deliberately. There was 
a deep method in this, since he desired to have the 
drug work before moving on. 

Thus he sipped his drink, explaining that in this 
way he could get the full benefit of it. The soldier 
waited ; at times he seemed anxious to go, and then 
showed an apathy that proved the charm of the po- 
tent powder. 

Mickey was anxious to remain here until the fel- 
low sank into a chair and slept, but the soldier 
roused himself to a sense of his duty, and forced the 
Irishman out upon the street. 

Arm in arm they walked along, and Mickey, 
finding that the single powder was not powerful 
enough to wholly dispose of the big Uhlan, sought 
to part company with him. 

Although dizzy and hardly able to stand, the sol- 
dier realized that it was his duty to retain his pris- 
oner. Every time Mickey attempted to leave, 
although the Uhlan had listened to his tirade with a 
foolish grin, he dropped his hand upon the other’s 
shoulder in a half helpless condition. 

Mickey became excited, a crowd collected, and 
the scene came about upon which we have gazed, 
and which ended with the Irishman following the 
directions given by Captain Tom. 

The American breathes a silent thanksgiving for 


“THIS NIGHT GERMANY IS FREE.' 


241 


that wonderful luck which seems to hover over 
drunken men and Irishmen. He believes an 
ordinary mortal would have met his fate. 

They debark near the home of the professor, and 
Tom bids the driver, whom he pays well, wait for 
him. The balloon is growing in shape hourly, and 
must be ready at the time mentioned. Tom intro- 
duces Mickey to the professor, and leaves him there. 
He has now reason to believe his plans may work 
well, since the one element most likely to bring 
about a contretemps is housed. 

The drosky awaits him, and jumping in he gives 
his order to the driver : 

“Back to Unter den Linden!” 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

“THIS NIGHT GERMANY IS FREE.” 

Tom reflects as he rides. He studies his driver, 
who seems to be a discreet sort of a fellow. He may 
have great need of a vehicle on this night — why not 
engage this man for the entire night? 

There are other good reasons for keeping the 
drosky. The man was probably at his stand when 
Captain Tom engaged him, and he will go back 
there if turned loose. It is easily possible that some 
one may be waiting there to question him — a soldier 
armed with authority. Tom makes up his mind that 
this man shall not go to his stand again for hours. 

He leans forward and asks his price for the whole 
night, and then. puts double what the fellow has 
asked into his itching palm. 

It is well the bargain has been struck, for as they 


212 “ THIS NIGHT GERMANY IS FREE”' 

draw near Unter den Linden a couple of soldiers 
command the driver to halt. 

One comes to the door of the vehicle and looks in, 

“ What is the matter?” demands Tom, stiffly. 

“ Pardon, mynherr. Orders have been given to 
examine every drosky. An Irishman, suspected of 
being a spy, is in the city, and when last seen went 
away in such a vehicle.” 

“I trust you will catch him. Tell your command- 
ing officer that Sir Clinton de Yere wishes him 
every success. To the British Embassy, driver.” 

The soldier salutes and falls back, believing he 
has been talking with an English nobleman. Cap- 
tain Tom moves on. A few minutes later he again 
speaks out. 

“ Driver, I have changed my mind. To the Grun 
strasse this time,” he says, in German. 

The driver nods his head. Perhaps he thinks it 
queer, but it is none of his business. He has been 
paid enough for two nights. He drives on among 
the many vehicles, passing along under the trees 
for which this avenue is noted. 

Grun strasse is reached at last, and Tom enters 
Carl’s abode. He consults his time-piece. Carl has 
said an hour, and it is almost up. The American 
throws himself into a chair and waits as patiently 
as he can the coming of this true friend. 

The moments slowly pass. After a time a door 
closes— Carl has returned. Captain Tom hastily 
rises to greet his friend, who immediately enters. 

“ A carriage at the door! what does this mean, 
friend Tom?” is the first question fired at him. 

In answer the American gives a rapid sketch of 
the adventure that has befallen him since he parted 
from Carl, after seeing the professor. 


“THIS NIGHT GERMANY IS FREE' 


213 


“Have I done well?” he asks, in conclusion. 

There is hardly any need to put the question, 
since Carl’s face has already shown the satisfaction 
that is in his soul. He presses the hand of the other. 

“ It is one great pleasure to call such a man like 
Mynherr Tom, my friend,” he says, solemnly. 

That is the nearest approach to a compliment the 
American has ever heard pass the lips of the stoical 
Teuton. He feels flattered. 

“Our plans, now, Carl,” he says. 

“All was well at the professor’s?” asks the other. 

“ When I left, yes. The balloon grows in size, and 
I have faith to believe the professor will keep his 
word, having all ready at midnight.” 

“We must eat something.” 

Tom would protest, but realizes that it is a wise 
thing to do, with what he has before him. So the 
words die on his lips, and sitting down with Carl he 
does justice to the spread. 

He notices a light upon Carl’s face, and supposes 
that it comes from the pleasure the other takes in 
defeating the plans of the authorities. It has not 
yet dawned upon the mind of Captain Tom that 
Carl may be engaged in a business of his own, and 
that the ball at the Coliseum has a deeper motive 
than appears upon the surface. 

Berlin may awaken this night to the dread fact 
that all her enemies are not in France ; that under 
her own walls lie those determined to throttle the 
government of Wilhelm. 

Great events are on the tapis, if given a chance to 
materialize ; let the head of the secret police slum- 
ber until dawn, and his life may pay the penalty of 
his rashness. 


244 


THIS NIGHT GERMANY IS FREE.' 


When they have finished the meal Carl secures a 
basket, and proceeds to load it with food. 

“You suffered before; you must not again, since 
there will be a lady with you,” he says, putting in 
several bottles of wine. 

Captain Tom feels a thrill at his words. Will Meta 
accompany him? It is death for her to remain ; but 
does she love him, will she trust herself in his care? 
When they drop into some French village beyond 
the border will she be willing to become Mrs. Cap- 
tain Tom? 

Much remains to be done, and he is anxious to get 
to work. Should Linda come alone to the ball at the 
Coliseum, Tom’s plan is to make use of his drosky, 
drive direct to Linda’s etage in the house fronting 
the avenue of limes, and seek an interview with 
Meta. Surely her worst suspicions must have been 
aroused by this time, and she would be ready not 
only to believe what he tells her, but to fly 
with him by the only avenue of escape from Ber- 
lin. 

Thus he reflects while he watches Carl fill the 
basket to the lid. How many chances there are 
against success ! He never knew this fearful anxiety 
before, no matter what the undertaking has been. 
Perhaps it is because Captain Tom never loved. 
This makes a man feel like a different being, and 
increases his fears. 

Carl explains in his leisurely manner. It is no use 
for them to be at the Coliseum before ten o’clock at 
the earliest. That will allow of all the time neces- 
sary for explanations between Tom and Meta, un- 
less, Carl continues, with a smile, the American de- 
sires to woo tne gentle Alsatian as Othello did Des- 
demona, by relating all the adventures and scrapes 


•‘THIS NIGHT GERMANY IS FREE 245 

into which he has stumbled during ten years of 
globe-trotting. 

They sit down to chat and have a cigar. 

“ It may be the last we shall ever smoke in com- 
pany, mynherr. You go upon a perilous mission; 
you may be captured, shot, or the balloon might 
burst when above the clouds. Ugh!” with a shrug 
of his broad shoulders, “we know not when annihi- 
lation may come. We do what we believe to be our 
duty, and leave the rest to Providence.” 

“You do not mention your own risks, but I know 
they are many and imminent,” says Tom, as he 
blows successive rings above his head. If this is the 
last cigar he is destined to smoke he means to fully 
enjoy it. 

“Mynherr, you are correct. I may not see the 
light of another day. Why is this so? I cannot tell 
you the particulars of our grand plot, but you may 
know that this ball at the Coliseum is but a farce — 
there is back of it a design to strike for liberty. 
This night Germany is free, unless Providence de- 
cides against us. We have our plans fully ar- 
ranged, and our men are in the camp around Paris 
and at Versailles, where Wilhelm has taken up his 
quarters. The broken wire was the signal for action 
on the succeeding night. When another day dawns 
Europe will shudder, but all lovers of freedom re- 
joice. I can say no more, my friend.” 

He has said enough. Captain Tom shudders as he 
reflects upon the consequences. He is an American, 
and believes in ballots rather than bullets in right- 
ing political wrongs. At the same time this traveler 
has seen the world, and knows that royalty-ridden 
nations like Russia and Germany have no show like 
his own people. 


240 


THIS NIGHT GERMANY IS FREE.' 


“They must fight their own battles,” is the maxim 
he has always favored. 

He despises these means, nor does he think them 
necessary in the present case. He has met Wilhelm, 
the King of Prussia, and believes him to be a kind- 
hearted German, devoted to his country, which he 
purposes making the chief nation of Europe. 

There are in all countries misguided individuals 
who are at war with the existing government. Carl 
and his fellows have some vision of a second United 
States, where young men are not forced to spend 
the best years of their lives in the army, and where 
the people govern. Such a thing can never be in 
Europe, where rival nations guard the border and 
glare at one another as though ready to do the 
throttling act at slight provocation. It must ever be 
a Utopian dream. Still men have banded together 
in the past, aiming to produce such an ideal state of 
affairs, and they will again ; lives have been sacri- 
ficed to defend the theory, and at this day, this 
hour, secret meetings are being held in Russia, and 
plots formed against the Czar. Men die, but the 
cause still lives, the great love of mankind for 
liberty. 

So far as Captain Tom can see evervthing is now 
arranged, and the rest must be left to an all-wise 
Providence. They have provided for any possible 
emergency that the wisdom of man can foresee. 

He wonders much what this scheme is that the 
Sons of Liberty have on deck for this night — how 
can a blow be struck in Berlin when nearly all the 
leaders of the government are with the army in 
France? Is this another Guy Fawkes gunpowder 
plot? Will they go forth from the Coliseum to run 
riot through the streets of the great city? Ere morn- 


THIS NIGHT GERMANY IS FREE.' 


247 


ing will the sky be lighted up with the blaze from 
palace to barracks, and the streets of Berlin be in 
the hands of an armed and desperate mob? 

Captain Tom does not believe so ; true, he has no 
doubt concerning the intentions of the would-be 
revolutionists, but Germany is slightly different 
from Salvador or Honduras. 

Besides, he remembers something else. 

Berlin has her Marborg, the Watch-Dog left be- 
hind by Bismarck — the man who never sleeps. Has 
Marborg been deceived? Can it be possible such a 
gigantic and terrible conspiracy could be brought to 
the very hour of execution, and this wonderful man 
be ignorant of it? 

The American knows about Marborg, and he has 
the greatest respect for the cunning and sagacity of 
Berlin’s guardian. When he looked into the expres- 
sionless face he saw a born detective, a man whose 
chief delight was to coax silly flies into his web, and 
when tangled up so that they were helpless to suck 
their blood. Captain Tom is not foolish enough to 
believe that this wonderful man has remained ig- 
norant as regards what is going on. He has seen 
in the Indian Ocean a tremendous octopus, with its 
many long arms stretching out and grasping differ- 
ent objects; a hideous creature, truly; and the 
death-cry of a poor devil of a sailor who was 
dragged down when the monster slowly sank, after 
having several of its arms chopped off by men 
armed with axes, often rings in his ears on a quiet 
night. 

Strangely enough he compares Count Marborg to 
an octopus— -it seems as though he is such a sea 
monster reaching out in all directions for victims. 

Calmly contemplating the matter Tom is more in- 


248 


THIS NIGHT GERMANY IS FREE.' 


dined to believe that the count must be aware of all 
the deep plans formed by the would-be revolution- 
ists. He has many means for gaining information, 
and Linda is but a single one. Yes, the American 
would wager ten to one that Marborg knows not 
only the general plan of these desperate men, but 
their private acts, their very thoughts, if they have 
ever been written or expressed above a whisper. 

Granting this — what then ? 

Will the count make his presence known at the 
Coliseum? It is more than likely, and perhaps a 
desperate scene may ensue, in which bad blood will 
be spilled. Those of the revolutionists present will 
certainly not allow themselves to be taken prisoners 
without a determined resistance, for they know the 
fate that awaits them — either death or the silence 
of a dungeon evermore. 

When Carl finally signifies that he is ready to ad- 
vance, Tom, with such serious thoughts in his mind, 
tosses away his weed and springs up. 

“ Let us shake hands, my dear fellow, and each 
wish the other success. We start upon desperate 
enterprises, but I think my chances are doubly as 
good as yours.” 

It is the traveler who speaks, and Carl Reuter 
smiles gravely, while through his glasses he sur- 
veys the face of his comrade. 

“ Friend Tom, I know it. I feel that my doom is 
soon to come upon me. It will be welcome. Since 
I laid Gretchen beneath the sod on the bank of the 
Rhine at Dusseldorf I have lived only for the good 
of my country. I shall proudly die for her. It will 
be a more glorious fate than that which has over- 
taken so many of our brave comrades upon the soil 
of France, sent to war upon fellow-workers because 


CAPTAIN TOM UNMASKED. 


249 


kings will it. Here, Mynherr Tom, this is your 
mask — no one is allowed in the Coliseum this night 
with features uncovered. Now let us go.” 

He looks around in silence, as though bidding his 
humble home an eternal farewell, a groan wells 
from his lips, but is stifled half-way. Then seizing 
the basket of provisions he passes out. 

The vehicle is still at the door. Tom’s money has 
secured the services of the Jehu for that night. 
They enter, and have the basket stowed away. 
Then Captain Tom gives his order ; this time it is : 

“To the Coliseum!” 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

CAPTAIN TOM UNMASKED. 

The Coliseum is lighted up in a brilliant manner 
in honor of the occasion. As a general thing the 
lower classes dance in this building, while the look- 
ers-on may be among the most respectable elements 
of Berlin society. A ball at the Coliseum is some- 
thing for strangers in the city to gaze upon, even as 
in Paris they go to see the Jardin Mabille or the 
Closerie des Lilas. 

To-night Berlin is to be treated to a rather new 
and novel sensation. A society is about to give a 
ball, and every one present must wear a mask. 
There will be no fancy costumes, but over all will 
hang an air of delightful mystery. 

The cards are limited in number, and for once the 
rabble finds itself shut outside the Coliseum. 
Strains of music float to their ears, and occasionally 
loud voices or laughter can be heard, but this is all. 

When Carl and Captain Tom drive up a large 


250 


CAPTAIN TOM UNMASKED. 


crowd has gathered outside, filled with curiosity. 
The American has arranged his programme in his 
own mind, and he speaks to the Jehu. 

“ Remain here. Do not leave your vehicle for a 
minute. I may need you in a hurry ten minutes 
from now or an hour — I can’t say. There is a lady 
in the case — you understand. If all goes well 
another fare like the one I gave you.” 

This is amply sufficient; the driver bows humbly, 
feeling that he must be serving a Croesus : 

“Your servant, mynlierr.” 

The two men advance to the door, and slip on the 
half-masks that have been secured. They then 
enter. 

The scene that opens before them is one to at least 
arouse curiosity. Scores of persons are present. 
Every one wears a mask. There is no attempt made 
to render the features hidden or even comical, it 
being sufficient to keep the face from being seen. 

Carl looks around and chuckles. He seems to be 
well pleased with the attendance. 

“You would not dream there were so many dis- 
contents in Berlin, eh, friend Tom?” he says, aside. 

The American confesses to being surprised. At 
the same time he experiences a strange feeling of 
uneasiness. To him it seems as though he can feel 
the presence of danger. 

“How do you know all these are comrades?” he 
asks, looking down upon the dancers. 

Carl does not show any alarm. 

“They have the signal and the grip. It is death to 
any one to betray it,” he says, quietly. 

Captain Tom makes no reply to this. He does not 
know which to admire the more, the student’s 
splendid faith in his comrades, or his simplicity. 


CAPTAIN TOM UNMASKED. 


251 


Really, Tom cannot see what is to hinder Count 
Marborg himself from being present, provided he 
has received the grip and signs from Linda. 

With this idea in his mind he allows his eyes to 
wander from one figure to another, speculating as 
to which of the men in mask he could apply a 
description of the count. 

A dozen fill the bill so far as height and spareness 
of frame are concerned. Captain Tom remembers a 
little thing he noticed while in the carriage with 
Marborg, driving down Unter den Linden. The 
third finger of his left hand has been shortened — 
the end joint is gone. 

That would be a clew to delight the heart of a de- 
tective. Eagerly he accepts the earliest opportunity 
of examining the left hand of every masked man 
whose physique resembles that of the Watch-Dog 
of Berlin. 

Several wear white gloves, and baffle him. At 
length to his satisfaction he discovers one man 
whose third finger is partly missing. He means to 
keep an eye on this personage— the chances favor 
his being the keen-eyed Count Marborg. 

“Carl, I have taken a great notion to be intro- 
duced to one of yonder men,” he says. 

“It can be done, mynherr; point him out,” re- 
turns the student, quietly. He knows Tom has some 
secret motive in this, although for the life of him he 
cannot grasp it. 

The music crashes, and the dance goes on. There 
are quite a goodly number of the gentler sex 
present, which proves, that as among the Nihilists 
of Russia, this secret liberty bund of Berlin does not 
consist of men alone. Many of their most active and 
devoted members are women. 


252 


CAPTAIN TOM UNMASKED. 


“ You see that tall man just about to lift a chair — 
I would like to meet him— why, you shall soon 
know,” says Tom. 

“ It shall be as you say. Kindly enter this side 
room. In three minutes we come,” and Carl leaves 
his friend deeply mystified. 

Tom hardly knows why he has done this. What 
if he does expose Count Marborg, will it prevent 
any action on his part? It may precipitate a 
tragedy. 

While he ponders Carl enters, accompanied by a 
tall man in mask. One glance Tom gives his left 
hand, and notes the missing finger. This is the 
party he desires to see. Will he dare to remove his 
mask? 

He hears Carl mention a name coupled with his 
own ; then he bares his face, expecting to dare the 
other to do the same. That hand goes up, the mask 
drops. Tom gives a gasp, for he looks upon the 
face of a stranger. 

The others are surveying him with wonder and 
surprise, as though they cannot understand what 
his actions mean. There is nothing for it but to 
explain. 

“Pardon, my friends; it was a mistake. I will tell 
you what I feared.” 

Then he goes on to state what he observed about 
the left hand of Count Marborg, and how he came 
to suspect that Herr Richter was that most dreaded 
individual. At this both of the others make merry. 

“It is not the first time I have been taken for the 
count. Even my face resembles his a little. Once 
I had quite an experience in Potsdam, at the palace 
of Sans Souci ; but this is not the time or place to 
be telling stories. We accept the will for the deed, 


CAPTAIN TOM UNMASKED. 


253 


Mynheer Tom, but there is no danger that Marborg 
could get in here. We are numbered— an extra man 
would be noticed,” remarks the tall conspirator. 

“But myself?” 

“ Ah ! you are known to every member — we have 
heard of you, and Carl is your surety. His life de- 
pends upon your loyalty.” 

Tom realizes now what risks his friend has taken 
in his behalf. He sighs to think what the inevitable 
fate of brave Carl must be. 

So they pass out once more among the others. 
Tom begins to eagerly scan each female in sight. 
Will he be able to distinguish Meta? Is she present? 

Ah! he has discovered Linda — he can make no 
mistake about that elegant figure, fit to be an 
artist’s model. She dances as though there was not 
the shadow of death hanging over this gay assem- 
blage. 

Encouraged by this success, he looks even more 
earnestly for Meta. There are three whom he hits 
upon as possibilities, and watching them he finally 
decides. His eyes follow the figure of the young 
girl with tenderness. How shall he go about the 
task of telling her what threatens, and be able to 
win her consent to fly with him? Now that he is 
nearer the execution of his scheme he sees difficul- 
ties that look as huge as mountains before him — 
when surveyed from a distance they have appeared 
small and insignificant. 

No one can help him, for he will have to go about 
the game himself. All depends upon his success in 
convincing Meta of the danger. 

While he stands there watching he sees some one 
glide up to Linda, who immediately rushes over to 
the door. A slender, girlish figure has entered and 


254 


CAPTAIN TOM UNMASKED. 


stands there as if uncertain what to do. Tom sees 
her put out a hand and grope around until she 
touches the wall, against which she is now leaning. 

It flies through his brain that she must be biind. 

Where has he known a blind girl? It comes be- 
fore him — the scene in the streets of Paris, the mob 
of Amazons, the accusing Francois, his defense of 
the girl, and her thrilling cry, “ Look at me ; I am 
blind!” 

Yes, it is Myra! 

He knows she has been put beyond the forts of 
Paris, and, no doubt, has found a friend to accom- 
pany her to Berlin. Her heart is in the cause — she 
is not double-faced like Linda. Though ready to 
help the German cause in the field she yet belongs 
to this liberty bund, and is ready to give her life, if 
need be, to help it on. 

Tom sees the chance he seeks. The girl he be- 
lieves to be Meta is alone. He crosses over and ad- 
dresses her. 

“The honor of a dance, fraulein?” 

He of course makes this request in German, but 
something about his voice or accent startles the 
girl. She seems to be endeavoring to look back of 
his mask. 

“Captain Tom!” 

The name falls from her lips like a zephyr, but his 
eager ears catch it. Never has music sounded so 
sweet to him. 

“You are Meta?” he says, quickly. 

“It is hard to believe such a thing. How come 
you at this place, Monsieur Tom?” 

“Only to see you!” he breathes. 

“You know not what risks you take!” 

“I know more than you dream of, Meta. We must 


CAPTAIN TOM UNMASKED. 


255 


separate from these dancers. Ten minutes, even 
five, will suffice to tell the story— to warn you of 
danger.” 

She sighs. 

“You think not of yourself, rash man.” 

“Pardon; I am thinking of both. You will grant 
me the interview?” 

“With pleasure; how can you doubt it?” and she 
places her hand on his arm, to again thrill him with 
her touch. 

Tom remembers the side room beyond the hang- 
ing curtains, where Carl took him to meet Herr 
Richter; a better place cannot be found for their 
interview. He is deeply in earnest, knowing that 
his whole future, besides that of the fair young girl, 
depends upon what the occurrences of the next hour 
or so may bring forth. 

They pass beyond the draperies. The small apart- 
ment is lighted by one gas-jet. 

Captain Tom removes his mask. 

“ To assure me there is no mistake would you 
mind raising your mask for a moment, Meta!” 

With charming naivete she allows him to have a 
glimpse of her face. The bold lover can hardly re- 
frain from pressing a kiss upon the pouting lips; 
but he recognizes the fact that this is no time for 
love passages. He must tell her of his passion, but 
not as other men do ; his wooing will indeed be so 
connected with business as to make it one of the 
strangest on record. Listen how this man of nerve 
goes about it. 

“Mademoiselle— Meta— you have been in terrible 
danger. It still hovers over you. Linda pretends to 
be your friend, but in secret she is your deadly 
enemy. You ask why is this so? I will tell you 


256 


CAPTAIN TOM UNMASKED. 


plainly. In the first place your heart is with 
France ; it was much owing to you that the plans of 
Yon Moltke came to naught when he hoped to take 
Paris by a coup de main . But there is another rea- 
son why she hates you — I am not a fool, neither a 
conceited coxcomb. The fair Linda has conceived 
for me an unfortunate attachment which I cannot 
return. She hates you because I adore you.” 

The girl trembles. 

“Oh, Monsieur Tom?” she murmurs, but does not 
shrink when he raises her little hand to his lips and 
kisses it. 

“ It is true, ma belle. I love you with all my heart 
and soul. If you return that affection you will con- 
sent to be my wife. 

“Your wife? That would be happiness — Tom,” 
comes almost in a whisper. 

“Thank Heaven for such a sensible little woman,” 
says the traveler, earnestly, “no foolish whims, no 
false modesty, but her own true self. She is not 
afraid to let me see she loves me. Listen, my own. 
I will tell you what danger lies about us.” 

Then this practical man goes on to relate what he 
knows and what he suspects. She hangs on his 
every word. He belongs to her now, and the wor- 
ship which she has in the past been compelled to in- 
dulge in from a distance can now be shown without 
shame. 

Every word she believes. What Tom says is holy 
writ. Tom is her hero, her lover — he will some day 
occupy a dearer relation to Meta — that of husband. 

When he has fully explained his plans she is con- 
fused; a rosy blush steals over her exposed neck; 
Tom devours it with his eyes. 

“ What you say about leaving Berlin I agree to ; I 


“ALL IS NOW STAKED ON A WOMAN'S WHIM." 257 


myself have suspected Linda; little things have 
warned me to beware, though I did not think she 
would betray to death one whom she professes to 
love. Yes, I will go with you and your brave friend 
in the balloon ; I will trust my life in your company 
far above the earth — we will fly to our dear France, 
and leave this country of the vandals behind. But 
to be married at the first French town we enter, oh, 
Monsieur Tom, it is impossible.” 

“Why impossible?” he demands, with a lover’s 
authority. 

“ My trousseau — my gowns ” 

“Hang the gowns! a plague on the trousseau! it 
is your own sweet self I want. There is no other 
way out of it, my darling. Make up your mind, and 
promise me,” he says, holding her hands, and 
glancing round to make sure they are alone. 

“I suppose — I — must — submit,” she whispers, in 
the shelter of his arms; and Tom — well, Tom takes 
what he has longed to take, and which is the per- 
quisite of an accepted lover. 


CHAPTER XXX. 

“ALL IS NOW STAKED ON A WOMAN’S WHIM.” 

Although he has proven such a bold wooer Cap- 
tain Tom does not lose his senses. He loves this girl 
with all his heart and soul, but his practical reason 
tells him this is no time for indulging in the sweet 
but foolish dream of sentiment; at the proper oc- 
casion he will prove himself everything that a girl’s 
heart can desire in this line, but now the danger 
surrounding them is too great. He must save Meta 
now that he has won her. 


258 “ ALL IS NOW STAKED ON A WOMAN'S WHIM." 

Their absence may have been noticed— Linda has 
sharp eyes, and on this occasion she will not allow 
herself to sleep. 

“We must go in,” says the American; “I will 
watch until the opportunity is favorable, and then 
give you the signal. When you see me raise my 
handkerchief, join me or reach the door. The way 
will be clear, and once outside the carriage awaits 
us.” 

She hears, and dwells upon his words with the en- 
thusiasm of love. Once more Tom gravely kisses 
the girl, who has promised to be his wife when they 
reach France. Then he allows her to leave him. A 
minute later he, too, passes beyond the curtains, 
and once more looks over the scene in the dancing 
hall. 

While the mad music sounds sweetest melodies, 
busy brains in the Coliseum are plotting and schem- 
ing, and each awaits the coming of a certain hour 
when the signal shall be given. 

Captain Tom looks for Linda, to find her dancing 
with a giant in mask. Where has he seen that 
splendidly proportioned form? If it did not seem 
ridiculous, Tom would say this must be the brave 
Uhlan captain, Johann Strauss. Is it possible? He 
shows his love for Linda in the manner he fiercely 
presses her to him. Tom ponders. If this be Johann 
Strauss, how comes it that he is found here— he an 
honored officer who bravely risked his life for his 
country before Paris? Has he, too, joined the secret 
liberty bund because Linda belongs to it? 

This question Captain Tom decides in the nega- 
tive. Then how explain Johann’s presence, if the 
tall and broad shouldered man is he? It can only 
be done upon the supposition that there are those 


“ALL IS NOW STAKED ON A WOMAN'S WHIM." 259 


present who do not belong here — that Marborg has 
utilized the masked ball at the Coliseum to entrap 
his foes. Tom shudders to contemplate the result 
when that trap springs shut. He trembles for the 
safety of the man he calls friend. Can he warn 
Carl? What would it avail? If there is any truth 
in his suspicions, the worst has already come. No 
one will be allowed to leave the building. 

This thought brings home his own troubles. Sup- 
pose he and Meta attempt to go out — they may be 
halted and captured by the secret police with which 
the Coliseum will be surrounded, if Marborg means 
to bag his game. How can he avoid this catas- 
trophe? 

If ever Captain Tom badgers his brain to get at an 
idea he does now. All the while he uses his eyes 
to advantage. 

Carl has not intrusted him with the whole plot, 
but he knows enough to surmise the rest.. Unless 
he is mistaken, it is the intention of these desperate 
conspirators to issue forth at a certain hour, per- 
haps midnight, and perform the work which has be- 
come a sacred duty, for which they are ready to 
sacrifice their lives if fate so decrees, for as Carl has 
said, “This night Germany is free.” 

He can imagine the extent of the great plot. At 
this very hour, perhaps, assassin hands are at 
the throats of those in the field — Wilhelm, Fred- 
erick, Bismarck, and Yon Moltke. Tom shakes 
himself. Can he really be awake, and such a dread- 
ful thing going on? Why should he not have 
warned those in danger of death? Is it too late 
now? He remembers what he has heard about the 
broken wire. This causes him to groan again and 
mutter, “Useless— useless.” 


260 “ ALL IS NOW STAKED ON A WOMAN'S WHIM.'- 

Then he makes up his mind, like a sensible man, 
that all this is none of his business, and if he is wise 
he will pay attention to the private matter which 
concerns his own fortunes and those of the girl he 
loves. 

His one hope is to get out of this rat-trap before 
the door closes and all inside are doomed. What 
worries him is the very strong possibility that the 
door has already closed, and egress cut off forever. 

His solemn meditations are interrupted even be- 
fore he has more than half decided upon his plan of 
action. Standing beside a pillar, away from the 
mad dancers, Captain Tom all of a sudden feels a 
tap on the arm as though a lady’s fan has touched 
him. 

He looks around. There is a delicate aroma of 
violets in the air, which reminds him that this has 
always been Linda’s favorite perfume. 

“ Good-evening, Monsieur Tom!” breathes a voice. 

“Mademoiselle Linda!” he ejaculates. 

She puts a warning finger on her lips, which the 
half mask allows. 

“ I am amazed — shocked ! I did not dream of such 
a thing as this. What do you here, Monsieur Tom?” 

Her voice betrays the fact that she is agitated. 
Until one minute since this woman has not dreamed 
that the man she loves is present. Now she awak- 
ens to the horror of the situation — that in dragging 
down the conspirators against the government she 
will probably doom him to the same fate that they 
share. 

The American’s mind is on the alert. He seizes 
an idea as quick as a flash. Talk of a drowning 
man clutching a straw ; Captain Tom’s manner just 
at present would indicate that he was sinking in a 


‘ ALL IS NOW STAKED ON A WOMAN'S WHIM." 261 


thousand feet of water, being dragged down, in fact. 

And what is this sudden idea that flashes through 
his mind? 

This wonderful woman has power to save Meta 
and himself —she is able to influence the Count Mar- 
borg, if he is present. Will she do this? Certainly 
not if he betray the truth; Meta is her rival, and 
sooner than see her fly with Tom she would see 
them both struck down at her feet. 

Captain Tom realizes this fact — there is a danger 
line over which he must not go. To breathe Meta’s 
name even will ruin all. Thank Heaven she does 
not dream that they have been together— that is 
evident. 

All is fair in love and war. This beautiful 
woman’s passion for him has ere now been the load- 
stone that came near dragging him down to death— 
what is to hinder him making it the ladder with 
which he shall climb out of this sea of despond? 

He decides that the exigency is so great that he 
cannot wait upon trifles. Two lives, his own and 
Meta’s, depend upon his success. 

At such a time as this the human mind is capable 
of flashing over such an amount of ground that 
what would take pages to describe is really but the 
work of a few seconds. 

He sees the lone chance and clings to it with the 
desperation of despair. She held the winning hand 
when they came together in Paris, and now Tom’s 
turn has come. 

«I am here to see the sights— what else? I have 
been a great admirer of anything that is odd— 
bizarre , you call it. Surely, this calls for admira- 
tion; some day I shall paint the scene, and you 
shall see it.” 


262 “ALL IS NOW STAKED ON A WOMAN’S WHIM.” 

He speaks calmly, just as though it is an Italian 
sunset which he has reference to. She observes him 
eagerly. 

“Strange, incomprehensible man, are you not 
aware of the fact that in coming here you have put 
**your life in peril?” she asks, coldly, for the situation 
worries her. 

He makes a gesture of contempt. 

“ Danger ana Captain Tom have supped together 
many a time. We are old friends. I heard you 
would be here — hence I came.” 

“You deceive me — I do not believe,” she cries, and 
yet her very actions declare otherwise. 

How we hug delusions to our heart when we want 
to see things that way. 

“Pardon, mademoiselle, what else would bring 
me here but a strong attraction? I know the risk I 
run. These are conspirators against the govern- 
ment ; they plot what is called treason ” 

“Not all,” she murmurs. 

“You are right. Some are here in the place of 
those kept away. For instance Johann Strauss.” 

“You know him?” startled. 

“I should say so. Nor is he alone. Others are 
present. I could even give a good guess that one of 
yonder men in mask is the deadly foe of your order, 
Count Marborg.” 

“ Heavens ! you confuse me ! ” 

“There is no need of surprise. You knew all these 
things before. You have great influence with the 
count. At your entreaty he would spare me.” 

She starts and shakes her head. 

“When the hour comes all who are here must 
share the same fate. I know not how to save you. 
Even he could not spare you then.” 


“ ALL IS NOW STAKED ON A WOMAN'S WHIM." 263 


“ What’s the matter with my flitting now?” 

“Eh? I do not understand, monsieur.” 

He must strike while the iron is hot. 

“Why shouldn't I get away before that fatal hour 
comes around? I have nothing to do with this busi- 
ness here. Let those who do look after it, not I.” 

“Ah! monsieur is brave, and ready to meet diffi- 
culties; but it is impossible, simply impossible,” and 
she wrings her hands in despair. 

“Hark, mademoiselle. I have no desire to die. 
Let us look this matter in the face.” 

“With pleasure.” 

“You are in high feather with the chief of the 
secret service; he commands in this affair. All you 
have to do is to seek him out and secure the paper 
that will save me. With such a passport I can go 
through the lines.” 

She seems puzzled. 

“But perhaps I cannot find the man you ask for.” 

“He is here— you know it.” 

This is put at a venture, but when she does not 
deny the fact he knows he has made a ten-strike. 
Yes, the count is on band. 

“Well, what next, Monsieur Tom?” she asks, in a 
quiet and subdued voice. 

The game is becoming deeper all the while. 

“What is to hinder your getting me a pass that 
will allow of my departure?” 

She turns upon him eagerly. 

“Can it be done?” 

“Certainly. Your professional instincts ought to 
tell you so. The count is here, and will deny you 
nothing in the line of reason.” 

“To-morrow it will be too late,” she muses. 

“Monsieur Tom, you must leave this place.” 


264 “ALL IS NOW STAKED ON A WOMAN'S WHIM, i” 

“Exactly. Will you do what I have asked?” 

“ I pledge you my word ; the paper shall be in 
your hand in ten minutes. You shall owe your life 
to Linda Dubois. Perhaps you will think more 
kindly of her.” 

“I shall adore her,” he exclaims, for all is now 
staked on a woman's whim— that most uncertain of 
all things earthly. 

“ Mon Dieu ! if I could believe it. Remain here, 
Monsieur Tom. Ten miuntes, I said ; let us rather 
say eight. Then I will come again, and give you 
the paper that takes you safely out of this fated 
house’.” 

She turns to move off. 

Captain Tom has no idea of allowing it yet, since 
his work is but half done. 

“Mademoiselle, listen,” he says, gently but firmly 
taking her arm. 

She does not break away ; her heart has gone out 
to this man, and Linda Dubois would deem it hap- 
piness should his hand detain her forever; she so 
proud and cold with other men, melts at the sound 
of his voice. 

“You do not change your mind, and decline to 
leave here ; you have given me your word ; I refuse 
to return it. Tell me, you are not so mad, so reck- 
less as that?” 

“You forget that I have a friend here.” 

She starts. 

“It would be acting the part of a coward for me 
to desert that friend.” 

Linda shakes her head. 

“You would ask for a double pass; it is beyond 
my power; it is too much.” 

“Very well. I shall remain and share his fate. 


“ALL IS NOW STAKED ON A WOMAN’S WHIM.” 265 

No one will ever say that Captain Tom deserted one 
who trusted him.” 

“No, no, monsieur, say not so. You are innocent; 
why should you suffer?” 

“No more innocent than this other. If you can 
save one you can save both, adorable Linda,” he 
says, as coolly as though bargaining for a horse in- 
stead of human lives. 

She bites her finger nails — deeply she is thinking. 
This man must be saved, for now she has hopes that 
he may love her. Once Meta is gone from his hori- 
zon, he must be attracted by her beauty and her love 
for him. 

Thus spurred on to desperate thought, she speedily 
sees light ahead. 

“You say, Monsieur Tom, this friend is no deeper 
in this plot than you — that he has not taken that 
dreadful oath,” with a shudder at the sudden con- 
viction which comes to her of her own duplicity. 

“Not even as guilty as myself — I swear it. We 
are both here through curiosity and the designs of 
others. If Count Marborg,” whispering the hated 
name in her ear, “gives you a pass for two, he will 
lose none of those whom he sets his trap to insnare. 
You believe me?” 

“Yes, I do believe you. He can do it; he shall do 
it. Why not? It is only one more, and there will 
be plenty left; plenty to glut his vengeance and 
make him secure in the favor of the king. Monsieur 
Tom, I will do my best to save you. It is at great 
risk. You do not know anothei woman who would 
dare this much for your sake.” 

Whatever Tom believes, he does not care to dis- 
pute this fact with her, since upon her faith in his 
growing affection toward herself rests the founda- 


266 


SIXTY-TWO MINUTES LEFT. 


tion of his success. He can be pardoned under 
these circumstances, therefore, if he acts a part and 
draws the vail further across her vision. 

“Not one, fair Linda, not one. Soldier of fortune 
that I am, I shall deserve death if I ever forget such 
kindness, such charity. We have been foes in war, 
but honorable foes. Now, when peace settles upon 
the land, our respect may draw us nearer to one 
another. Lovely Linda, I kiss your hand ; I am 
your slave.” 

She is completely won ; a glamour comes over her 
eyes, thrown by Cupid’s hand. Almost intoxicated 
with joy she turns away. 

“I will see him; I will demand the paper; he can- 
not refuse me. Then you must fly, Captain Tom, 
when I secure the pass.” 

“ For myself and a friend,” says the soldier, dis- 
tinctly, yet calmly, as though he would impress the 
exact words on her mind. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

SIXTY-TWO MINUTES LEFT. 

Again he is alone, for Linda has gone to seek the 
chief of the secret police. Captain Tom knows upon 
what a slender thread he builds his fortunes, but it 
is wonderful with what tenacity he holds on to this 
support. It is his way, for the man has always de- 
clared there was something of the bull -dog in his 
composition. 

Near him the music crashes and the dance of 
death goes on. He watches as in a dream. Can this 
be Berlin, and are these living figures moving be- 
fore him? Then his suspicion, it seems, was correct, 
and Count Marborg is present at the affair. 


SIXTY-TWO MINUTES LEFT. 


267 


What consternation would come upon the student 
and his fellow-conspirators could they suddenly 
realize the truth — that this hated tiger is among 
them. It would warn them that already their fate is 
sealed, since without doubt the Coliseum is sur- 
rounded by the military. 

Poor Carl. 

Is there no way to save him? The American has 
never yet been known to desert a friend when their 
fortunes were united. What can he do? Would it 
be right for him to remain and share Carl’s fate? 

He decides against this, but it is the thought of 
Meta that weighs in the balance more than any- 
thing else; he is horrified at the bare idea of the 
sweet girl who has promised to become his wife 
being caught in this trap of the Watch-Dog, and 
immured for life in some dismal German fortress. 

No matter about himself, he must save her. This 
does not prevent him from warning Carl. These 
men are political plotters, which of course he is not, 
and hence he does not think it at all necessary that 
he should share their fate. 

He glances around, wondering if he can dis- 
tinguish Carl in the midst of the throng. At this 
very moment some one touches him. 

“Mynherr Tom!” breathes a voice. 

The traveler is thrilled — it is Carl. 

“I was looking for you,” he cries, as he seizes the 
hand of his student friend. 

“ And I for you, my poor fellow. I warned you 
against coming here. Now it is too late,” says Carl, 
in an exceedingly mournful voice. 

“ What! you know? It was to impart this secret 
that I was seeking you!” exclaims Tom. 

“Yes, I have learned that the worst has come. 


268 


SIXTY-TWO MINUTES LEFT. 


That woman fiend has betrayed us. Marborg and 
his detestable minions are here — Heaven alone 
knows in what numbers, since I dare not trust my- 
self to speak to more than one or two. Besides, the 
soldiers surround the house, four deep. They cannot 
be seen from the windows, but I have learned they 
are there.” 

Tom squeezes the hand of this brave, philosoph- 
ical friend, who will never again see the bright 
world after this night. 

“What will you do, comrade?” he asks, with 
deep solicitude. 

Carl makes an expressive movement of his shoul- 
ders ; it signifies hopelessness. 

’“What can we do, Mynherr Tom. Whichever 
way we turn we are in the trap. Already perhaps 
half of our number are prisoners — his men are here 
in their stead. It matters little whether we rush out 
or remain, our fate is sealed. Thank Heaven, I am 
armed. At the last moment I may have a chance to 
rid Berlin of that man. if I can do that, then let my 
fate come upon me. I shall feel that Heaven frowns 
upon what we believed a sacred duty.” 

How sad his tone ; it seems as though his brave 
spirit were already being wafted across the border 
of the dark river. 

“One thing touches my heart. It is that you 
must share our doom, you who have had no part in 
our plotting. Would to Heaven it were otherwise, 
my brave friend.” 

“ Carl, if 1 were to tell you that I have found a 
gleam of hope — a chance to save Meta, and leave 
this place with her, what would you say? Would it 
seem as though I deserted you in your hour of 
need? That has never been said of Captain Tom.” 


SIXTY-TWO MINUTES LEFT. 


269 


“No, no. If you have the chance, go by all means. 
Lose no time, but depart. It is none of your busi- 
ness— you don’t belong to the liberty qund. Go, 
my friend, and if through the kindness of Heaven 
you live to return to your happy land beyond the 
sea, do not forget Carl Reuter, who fell in the mad 
effort to bring liberty to the Fatherland.” 

Captain Tom thinks to tell him what his hope is — 
indeed, he has even opened his lips with that pur- 
pose in view, when he sees Linda hastening across 
the dancing floor, and heading for the spot where 
his late interview with her took place. 

So with one last squeeze of the hand he leaves 
Carl, and makes for the rendezvous. 

Linda is already there, looking around her in evi- 
dent anxiety. She welcomes him, but Tom is imme- 
diately pierced by the conviction that there is disap- 
pointment in her manner. Can she have failed? 
The thought seems to freeze the very blood in his 
veins. 

“ I missed you ; I feared you had gone to try and 
escape yourself. Mon Dieu ! it would mean death 
to you.” 

“Have you— succeeded?” 

He controls his voice in a remarkable manner, 
considering what he has at stake. 

“I fear— badly, monsieur,” she replies. 

Again that cold hand seems to grasp his heart 
and crush it. Then she has failed. Well, it only 
means that he must remain and meet his fate like 
a man. He stifles a groan ; it is not of himself he 
is thinking, but of the fair girl he loves ; he shivers 
at her doom, she so young, so charming. 

Then he notices something; Linda is nervously 


270 


SIXTY-TWO MINUTES LEFT. 


fingering a piece of paper. When his eye falls upon 
this he has a sudden revival of hope. 

“ Did he refuse you, mademoiselle — was he so un- 
gallant to a lady?” he says. 

“Not exactly that, but he limited the time; I 
begged and entreated him to extend it, but he was 
of stone. How I hate that cold monster,” she pants. 

Ah ! the blood surges through his veins again. 
Limited the time ! What cares Captain Tom for that, 
since all he wants is to get outside the walls of the 
detestable Coliseum, and have, say, half an hour 
left. 

“ Let me see the paper ; perhaps I can figure out 
some hope from it,” he says, quietly. 

She releases it to him without a murmur, and 
watches while he devours it with his eyes. 

In German he reads : 

“This document will pass the bearer and one 
friend from the Coliseum, and anywhere inside the 
walls of Berlin. Not good after midnight. 

“ (Signed) Marborg.” 

Captain Tom deliberately takes out his watch and 
notes the time. It is exactly two minutes of eleven. 

The count’s pass is good for sixty-two minutes. 
He has won ! That is double the time he needs, but 
he will not spoil the whole affair by any undue 
haste. 

“You do not seem greatly troubled,” says Linda, 
who has watched to see how he takes it. 

“This is as good as I expected,” he replies. 

“But do you not see, monsieur, he says ‘inside the 
walls of Berlin.’ You cannot escape. It is only de- 
laying your fate. You save yourself from death as 
a conspirator to meet the same doom as a spy, for 
just as surely as you are inside the walls of Berlin 


SIXTY-TWO MINUTES LEFT. 


271 


when the sun rises to-morrow, Count Marborg will 
have you.” 

‘‘Perhaps,” returns Tom, coolly. 

His indifference arouses Linda. 

“Aha ! you have conceived a plan ! — that wonder- 
ful mind which defeated all my schemes in Paris — 
what is it you think of now?” 

“ I see a gleam of hope, fair Linda— at least it 
seems promising to me.” 

“Share it!” she exclaims, “do you not see that I 
am as anxious as yourself? Speak and tell me, my 
dear Tom.” 

The American has conceived an idea by means of 
which he believes Linda can at least have all her 
suspicions lulled. It is important that she should be 
kept his friend. True, he has Marborg’s pass, which 
is bound to be honored, but if a jealous woman fol- 
low at his heels his escape will be foiled. 

Before replying he puts the precious paper into 
his vest-pocket, and glances around to see whether 
any one is near. 

“Mademoiselle, you care for my life— I know it. 
Listen to me. If, when you return alone to your 
etage this night, you should find Captain Tom 
crouching by the door, would you give him shelter 
and hide him until some means came up whereby 
he could leave Berlin?” 

This time it is not Eve that tempts. Linda quivers 
in every muscle of her lithe form ; she is evidently 
assured that Captain Tom, after all, will belong to 
her. 

“I agree, on one condition,” she whispers. 

“Name it.” 

The mask hides her blushes mercifully, else per- 
haps she would not dare to speak. 


272 


SIXTT-TWO MINUTES LEFT. 


“ That if I conceal you from your foes, when you 
go from Berlin, I accompany you — as — your — wife, 
Captain Tom.” 

He instantly puts out his hand and clasps that of 
the fair Alsatian. 

“It is a bargain, Linda, and not such a terrible 
doom for a man, either. At any rate, I have no 
complaint to make,” he says, glibly. 

“I shall look for you.” 

“Yes, adorable one”— Tom has been among the 
Turks and learned their ways. 

“ And if I do not see you I shall gently call out 
‘Captain Tom — mon cher ” 

“And rest assured that if I am within a mile of 
that place, I shall rush to you as the needle does to 
the magnet. But, lovely Linda, the hour grows late. 
I must find my friend and leave this place.” 

He wishes to break away, since this scene is not 
at all to his liking. 

“Friend? I forgot; you will not bring your friend 
to my etage ?” she exclaims. 

“Heaven forbid!” says Tom, and Linda never 
suspects what he really means by this. 

She is reassured by his manner, and reaches out 
her hand in saying good-by. Tom, with the gal- 
lantry of a Frenchman, kisses it. 

Then they part — to meet no more, the adventur- 
ous soldier of fortune hopes. 

His next move is rather difficult. It is to wait 
until Lidna is out of sight, and then attract the at- 
tention of Meta. She will come to him on signal ; 
when he raises the handkerchief his love will be at 
his side, but Linda's jealous eyes must not look 
upon the sight. 

This reminds him; he wonders whether Meta 


OUT OF THE TRAP. 


273 


could have seen the recent interview. As she was 
to watch him pretty closely in order to catch his 
signal, the chances are much that way. What will 
she think of his actions? He knows her trust is as 
strong as her love. Surely she will realize that 

Captain Tom's reflections are interrupted, for 
once again he is tapped on the shoulder, and turn- 
ing sees a tall masked man whose hands are cov- 
ered with white cotton gloves. 

“ Monsieur, a few words with you. Kindly step 
into this side room.” 

That voice — it belongs to no one but Count Mar- 
borg. 

Captain Tom grits his teeth. What new compli- 
cation arises now, and when nearly one-third of his 
hour of grace has flown? 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

OUT OF THE TRAP. 

With as unruffled a manner as only a man of his 
peculiar composition can present, Captain Tom fol- 
lows the terrible Watch-Dog of Berlin beyond the 
curtains. The same apartment which witnessed his 
happiness not more than half an hour before, may 
now be the scene of his undoing. 

He finds the other awaiting him. 

Anxious to know the worst, Tom recklessly plunges 
headlong into the affair. 

“You are Count Marborg?” he says. 

“ Mon Dieu! he knows me, this wonderful man, 
this soldier of fortune,” sneers the other. 

“Yes. Why do you ask me in here?” 

“Listen. I will tell you, my friend. You gave me 


274 


OUT OF THE TRAP. 


a ride to-day ; I shall return the favor to-morrow, 
but you may not fancy my equipage.” 

Under these words is that same detestable sneer. 
Tom feels as though an icy breeze from Siberia has 
swept down upon him, but he meets this tracker of 
men with a front as bold as his own. He will need 
every bit of nerve he owns ere the game is won. 

The other continues in his slow way, each word 
rendered significant by the emphasis he puts upon it. 

“When last we met, Captain Tom, the wire be- 
tween Paris and Berlin was broken. That wire has 
now been repaired.” 

“Ah! and how does that concern me?” 

“Well, I have been making a few inquiries of our 
leaders around Paris. Here is a dispatch I received 
just before coming here.” 

He places a piece of paper in the hands of the 
American, who coolly reads aloud : 

“If you capture Captain Tom, have him shot at 
sunrise as a spy. He has played the devil with our 
work around Paris. 

“(Signed.) Yon Moltke, Field Marshal.” 

“That sounds rather rough,” remarks Tom, whose 
thoughts are rapidly chasing each other. He won- 
ders if this man has enough honor about him to 
keep his word, once given. 

“ It is— on you, mynherr. If you escape the doom 
of these conspirators, it is to meet the fate of a spy. 
Yes, it is hard on you.” 

“ But I came to Berlin on an errand of mercy— to 
save an innocent life.” 

The German Watch-Dog grunts. 

“Perhaps it does you credit, mynherr, but in so 
doing you lose your own. We do not ask why you 


OUT OF THE TRAP. 


275 


are here. When you are found in Berlin your fate 
is sealed.” 

“Perhaps,” mutters Tom. 

“What is that?” demands the count. 

“ I say it is hard lines. But what is your object in 
seeking me now?” for this puzzles him. He does 
not know whether it is to gloat over an intended 
victim or from some other reason that the count has 
picked him out. 

“ When the hour of twelve comes there may be a 
desperate scene here. I did not know but what you 
might like to go to headquarters with me and de- 
liver yourself up.” 

“ Bah ! what good would that do, if I am to die as 
a spy at daybreak?” 

“You will remain and share their fate?” 

“Neither one nor the other.” 

The Watch-Dog surveys him curiously through 
the two eye-holes in his mask. 

“ Count Marborg, you have the reputation of being 
a man of your word.” 

“Certainly,” grins the other, flattered. 

“If you were to say to me, ‘you may go in peace,’ 
I should not be interfered with.” 

“ Most truly, my noble captain, but I am not say- 
ing that just now, am I?” 

“You have granted me the privilege of leaving 
this place.” 

“ I ? You dream ! Impossible ! ” 

Now comes the crucial test. Captain Tom flashes 
the paper before his face. 

“Do you see that? is not that your signature?” 

“ That is the truth— I remember now ; it was for 
you Linda pleaded. Ah! my eyes are open.” 

“I am at liberty to walk out of here?” 


276 


OUT OF TEE TRAP . 


“Granted, mynherr.” 

“To pass your lines of soldiers?” 

“Exactly so. But you forget, my friend. That 
pass is only good within the walls of Berlin.” 

“ Yes.” 

“It is now just twenty-nine minutes of twelve. 
At that hour that paper will be no longer good. You 
could hardly reach the gates by that time. Even if 
you did, you could not pass. Ah ! my brave captain, 
you are caged!” 

“I will take my chances if ever I reach the gates,” 
mutters Tom, half -aloud. 

“Do not deceive yourself, mynherr. To-morrow 
every house in Berlin will be searched— even the 
etage of Mademoiselle Linda not excepted, nor the 
boat of your friend on the Spree. I have heard, too, 
of that Irish firebrand — he will share your fate. It 
is a pity— you are a bold man. My superiors cannot 
conceive how you came this long distance unde- 
tected.” 

“Your emissaries should watch the trains more 
carefully,” mutters Tom, seeking to direct suspicion 
away from the truth. 

Time presses. 

Captain Tom is wild to be off, for he realizes that 
even now he may meet delay and be stopped upon 
the streets of Berlin by the patrol; the limit of his 
pass may be reached ere he arrives at his destina- 
tion. 

“Pardon me, count, but I must leave you. If I 
am captured you will understand that Captain Tom 
has faced death before, and he will not murmur 
now. Good-night, my dear count; we may meet 
again.” 


OUT OF 1 HE THAT. 


277 


He presses the cold hand of Marborg, and passes 
out among the dancers. 

The count nods his head and chuckles. 

“One brave man, that Captain Tom, but what 
matters it? Others equally as brave have played 
and lost with Marborg in the game. They set up 
the pins, I knock them down. It is difficult to out- 
wit the Watch-Dog of Berlin. I will now shut the 
door of the trap.” 

He parts the curtains, catches the eye of a man, 
and makes a signal. In a moment the other is at 
his side. It is Johann Strauss. 

“ Captain, you know the telegraph office, three 
doors down the street?” says the count. 

“ Certainly,” replies the Uhlan officer. 

“ Proceed there at once, my dear captain, and 
send a message signed with my name to the guard 
of every city gate: ‘Allow no one to pass out until 
further orders?’ ” 

“It is done, count,” and with a military salute the 
soldier withdraws. 

Meanwhile, what of Tom? As soon as he mingles 
with the dancers his eye hunts for the form of his 
love. Minutes, precious minutes, are passing. At 
last he sees her, and springs to her side. 

“Come, it is time,” he says. 

She gives a low cry of pleasure, and eagerly puts 
her hand within his arm. Her life is in his hands 
now, and she trusts him. 

For one thing Captain Tom is thankful. Linda 
does not see. She believes he has gone long ago, 
and probably imagines him crouching near the door 
of her etage awaiting his signal. Not that even 
Linda could restrain him now, but he does not fancy 
having a revengeful woman crying after him in %h<) 


273 


OUT OF TEE TRAP. 


street, endeavoring to hold him back because she 
has discovered that the companion of his flight is 
Meta, her hated rival in love and war. 

Now they pass beyond the portals of the Coliseum, 
and the stars shine above. The breeze is still from 
the north-west, thank Heaven ! 

“ Halt!” 

It is a soldier who stands before them. Captain 
Tom has his pass ready. The carriage they would 
make use of is close at hand, the driver in his place, 
having already seen them. 

“Examine this, officer,” thrusting the paper into 
the hands of the other. 

There is light enough for him to read, and he 
glances over the pass. 

“It is good until twelve.” Then he looks at a huge 
silver time-piece. “You have just seventeen min- 
utes left, mynherr.” 

“Hand me the pass, please.” 

“Who gave you this?” 

“Count Marborg himself, within there.” 

“ I suppose it is all right ; you can go on. ” To him- 
self he says : “ What does it matter, since it will not 
take them beyond the gates?” 

“Enter, my own,” and Captain Tom with his mus- 
cular arms lifts Meta into the drosky. 

To the driver he whispers : 

“The New Stadt— where you took me before, and 
spare not your horses. Twenty thalers extra, man, 
if you reach that house before twelve.” 

They are off, the vehicle dashing madly down the 
street. Captain Tom’s heart is light, for he feels 
that he has won a hard-fought battle. 

If nothing breaks down, they will be safe. He 


OUT OF TEE TRAP. 


279 


presses his sweetheart, soon to be his own dear 
wife, close against his side. 

“Courage,” he whispers. 

“ I fear not, my Tom, since I am with you. All 
will be well,” she replies. 

What charming confidence. No wonder his heart 
swells with pride to think she loves him, and 
believes him invincible. Such faith is enough to 
spur even an ordinary man on to heroic deeds, and 
Captain Tom is hardly that. 

The mad rush of the vehicle attracts the attention 
of some soldiers; they order a halt. Once more the 
pass is examined and commented on. They dare not 
refuse to honor it, but Tom groans — at least two 
precious minutes have been lost. 

Now they near their destination. Tom has his 
watch out, and takes advantage of their passing a 
street-lamp to look at its face. 

Five minutes of twelve. 

They will be in time, thank Heaven ! 

The drosky draws up in front of the inventor’s 
house, Tom places all he has promised in the hand 
of the driver, and then almost drags Meta to the 
door, carrying the basket on his other arm. 

Another vehicle dashes up, and from it springs the 
tall figure of Captain Strauss. 

“ I am sent to arrest you ; I have followed you 
from the Coliseum, at his orders, Captain Tom,” 
says the Uhlan giant. 

The American holds the pass under his nose. 

“Read that, Johann. Mark you, it says until 
twelve. Your watch, man. Ah! you see, I have still 
four minutes’ grace. Remain here, and when the 
clock strikes you can arrest me.” 

With this he slams the door shut in the face of the 


280 


OUT OF THE TRAP. 


astounded Uhlan, whose slow wits can hardly grasp 
the situation. Two minutes later Captain Tom helps 
Meta into the basket of the tugging balloon, 
while Mickey looks after the provender. Then comes 
a grasp ot the hand, a “ Heaven bless you, profes- 
sor,” and the signal is given for cutting the ropes. 

The bells strike the midnight hour — it is now 
turned morning. There comes a strange rushing 
noise to the ears of the Uhlan outside, he sees a 
great body between himself and the star-studded 
heavens, and from above floats the voice of Captain 
Tom: 

“Bon jour , Johann Strauss, my compliments to 
Count Marborg.” 

The balloon shoots up into the air and sails along 
in the direction of France. Captain Tom and his 
compagnons de voyage fancy they hear a faint 
tumult in Berlin, but the city is soon left far behind, 
and they sweep on toward the land of the lily, 
where it will be the first loving duty of he brave 
soldier of fortune, the American Croesus, to make 
Meta Mrs. Captain Tom. 

[the end.] 


I CURE FITS! 

When I say cure I do not mean merely to stop 
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worst cases. Because others have failed is no 
reasor for not now receiving a cure. Send at 
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H. G. BOOT, Jtt.C., 1 82 Pearl St., N.Y. 



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